#past tense weekend only happens once!!!

[mylittleredgirl]

i thought that was a normal, even expected amount of trekkie behavior actually

[attapullman]

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend. 

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps. 

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you. 

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix. 

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always. 

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation. 

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher. 

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar. 

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men. 

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin. 

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest. 

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after. 

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out. 

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor. 

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along. 

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock. 

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly. 

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck. 

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited. 

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers. 

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A week passes in a tense slog. Barrett continues his pandering penance and you wallow in irritation. You want to put it behind you. You want to get past it but every time you do, it just happens again.

If this was the first time, it would be easy but you’ve lost count of all the times you’ve had this fight. 

Your menial office work does little to distract. It only allows you to think about all the bullshit. The way Barrett dismisses everything you do and has to list of everything you don’t. The way he can’t see his own flaws or how you’ve never once rubbed his nose in them like a dog.  

Is it passive or weak or just acceptance? You can’t say. You just always put up with it.  It’s just easier not to make an issue of every little thing. Problem is, now it’s a big thing. 

When you come home, you’re worn out but you still have work to do. Dishes, tidying, cooking. Even your weekends don’t allow you must rest. You need to sort through the bills and go get groceries. All along the way, he’s in the way. You’re not sure he’s trying to help, more so trying to force his way to forgiveness. 

You grab a bundle of reusable shopping bags from the cupboard overflowing with them. It only took about a hundred of the things to start remembering to take them with you.  

As you shut the cupboard, Barrett’s on the other side of the oven. Watching and waiting. He’d be a lot more help if you didn’t have to tell him what to do. You forgot a mug and to him, that’s high crime, but he can’t remember to pay the power bill without six texts on the due date. 

“So... what’s going on today?” He smiles. 

It used to be that that smile made you melt. It would make all your troubles flutter away like butterflies. Now it’s just another irk. 

“Groceries.” You wave the fistful of bags. 

“Oh, cool, want me to come?” 

You nearly scoff. Every weekend you ask and every weekend he’s too busy. His pals want him to jam in their garage band or go fishing down at some dirty river. Another tick on the wrong side of the Pros-Cons list. 

“Sure,” you shrug. It’s easier to just let him come along. You don’t need another argument and you could use the extra hands. 

You shove the bags into the folded shopping cart and put your shoes on. He toddles behind like a lost child. You’re repress a glare as you grab your keys and purse. You’re going to have to talk this out sooner than later our you’re really going to hate him. 

He follows you out to the bus stop and you wait in silence. You had a car but it broke down last year. Ever since, he gets a ride off his coworkers or friends and you flash your bus pass. It’s cheaper than leasing a car, even a used one. 

You don’t know what stresses you out more; thinking about all the stuff he does or just thinking about your life. You get on the bus and sit near the back. He reaches over to grab your hand. You wince but don’t pull away. 

“Nice day,” he says. 

“Mhmm,” you grumble. 

His attempt at small talk doesn’t go much further. You get off at your stop and walk the block to the grocery store. You unfold your shopping cart and pull out your list. Barrett grabs a bag of gummy bears and dumps them in the cart. 

“Those aren’t on the list,” you say. 

“I know but it’ll be a nice treat for later. We’ll have some tonight after dinner.” 

“Oh, alright.” 

You factor in the extra cost and mentally cross off the avocado from the list. You can go without. You roll through the produce section and work your way down the list. Barrett trails behind you. 

You stop in the cereal aisle to grab a bag of oatmeal. As you stand, you flinch and cry out at a surprise peck on your cheek. Barrett puts his arm around your shoulder as he presses his lips against you. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“Baby, giving you a kiss.” You look at him and he grins, “I miss you. I love you. I’m tryna be better, honey.” 

“In the grocery store?” You challenge. 

“It’s cute.” 

“Mm, it’s... let’s wait ‘til we get outta here. It’s starting to get busy.” You glance around at the other customers, hoping none of them noticed his little act. “How about you go grab some drumsticks? Flyer says they’re on sale.” 

“Oh, I can do that. Be right back!” He proclaims. 

He shuffles off and you shake your head and turn back to the shelves. The store brand on discount is all out. You hiss in disappointment. You search the rest of the selection. That’s the cheapest on the shelf and you really can’t stretch the extra dollar. 

You look up at the overstock along the top. It’s right up there but you’re just too short to reach. You give a poor attempt then stand flat on your feet. You peer up and down the aisle. You could find an employee. 

“Need some help?”  

You turn to face the stranger and give a start. They aren’t so strange after all. You know him. Well, not know-know him. Everyone in the city knows Steve Rogers, the Captain America. 

“Uhhh...” 

“What’s your brand?” He asks. “They don’t run restock until before closing. I usually come then, less busy but I got... ha, sorry, I’m rambling. What can I grab for you?” 

You lick your dry lips and glance at the shelf. You appreciate the help but telling Captain America that you need the cheapest bag on the shelf isn’t exactly dignified. You point to the price tag on the shelf and he reaches on his toes to grab the edge of the box on the top. He wiggles out a bag and stands flat. 

“Here,” he offers it with a handsome smile. “You know, it’s made at the same factory as the regular brand.” He taps the back of the bag, “exact same address. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re from the same lot.” 

“Oh, well, er... thanks,” you take the oats and put them in your cart. 

“No problem. Sometimes being a hero isn’t very glorious. Sometimes it’s just reaching the top shelf.” 

You force a chuckle. You’re sure the Cap’s life is all sunshine and rainbows. Must be a real ego boost to help the little people. 

“Well, I appreciate it, Captain.” 

“Steve,” he smirks and stares. Your lower your brows and look behind you. Is he looking at someone else? 

“Oh, of course. I should go find my husband.” You roll around him and try to shake off the awkward encounter. You look down at your list as you stop at the end of the aisle. 

“Hope he’s not lost...” Steve calls after you. He says your name and you crane to look at him. You meet his gaze and blanch. He turns and struts off without another word. 

You turn back to your path and slowly leave the aisle. How did he know your name? You replay the interaction and try to recall giving it but you can’t. Well, you’re not exactly thinking straight right now. It’s nothing. You’re just stressed. 

[lcriedlastnight]

Can you do a fluffy and angsty fic for Lando after Austria, his girl comforting him. I'm surprised there aren't more after what happened under the tags but the only ones that were there are smut, which I don't really want to read I want fluff and angst.

sorry it took me so long to respond anon! i've been swamped.

tw: fem! reader, swears, AUSTRIA!!!!, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1k

you watch as lando trailed after max and you knew one of two things was inevitable. either lando was going to overtake max and finally take the lead after what seemed like forever, or the two boys were going to crash into each other.

you watch with one eye open every time lando tries to overtake max. you makes your body tense up as you fear that this will be the time their tires touch. you try to stay hopeful but you know that this will not end well, neither drivers willing to give up their positions and both trying to fight for that first place position.

it happens so quickly, it was a blink and you'll miss it incident. all you see is lando's mclaren try another move on max then something flying in the air. you can hear shouts from the mclaren team around you but you were still confused, you were not sure what exactly was happening. you watch as max slows down and lando finally overtakes him. you hear that he has received a five second penalty. you see a flash of a red bull fly past in the pit lane and then suddenly, lando's own car is stopped, practically half of its back wheel missing. it is then that it finally registers. they had contact and it had caused lando to retire from the race (you later found out it was his own decision).

you had not been with lando long enough to know what to do in this kind of situation. you just stay where you are for ten minutes until maybe the last few laps of the race when you feel lando's presence looming around you.

he does not even have to ask you to follow him as he heads towards his drivers room, head bowed down, not even looking where he was going. the boy was lucky he did not walk into any walls. if it had been any other situation you would have laughed at his carelessness but right now you had no clue how to act.

once you were both in the privacy of his room, lando slumps down on the little couch headfirst. you linger at the door, your hands longing to soothe him and your mind crying out to tell him it will all be alright.

"are you alright?" you question. it comes off timid as much as you tried to seem confident. you knew it was a silly question. you knew he was not fine but you just felt like you had to ask. lando sighs into one of the throw pillows at the question. for some reason this is what spurs you to spring into action. you take the few steps over to join him on the couch and sit as the space next to his feet.

"lando, look at me." you tell him, you voice much more firm and stable than before. lando does as you ask and turns himself so he is facing you and looks at you so sadly he might as well have just ripped out your heart out and jumped on it right there and then.

"that was all max's fault. you did nothing wrong. you tried an overtake, you wouldn't be a racer if you just sat back and let max lead the whole race. you're the only person on the grid who is consistently challenging max every weekend, that's something to be proud of.” you grab his hand gently and let your thumb rub it's own path along the skin of wrist.

"i'm shit. i've had one win and now i can't seem to do it again and when i finally get the chance to, like today, max just fucks me up because he would rather dnf than finish second! and he didn't even retire the fucking car he actually kept on racing which makes me look even worse!" by the end of his rant his voice was louder and you could see the tears of frustration in his eyes.

you swiftly pull him up by his hand to be face to face with you. you hold eye contact with him, letting him know how much you meant what you were going to say.

"you are not shit, lando. you've had one win and now you're hungry for more, of course it's gonna hurt a little when you come second again but listen to me. every single race you are getting closer and closer to max. i know you want it to be now but just because it isn't doesn't mean you're shit. it just means that max knows you are more of a threat than before miami and he can't just saunter along like he did at the start of the season. you're doing so well, please don't doubt yourself."

lando listens through your entire rant without trying to interrupt once and once you are finished talking he drops his head into your lap. "i really, really thought i was gonna get it this time. i really wanted it." he mumbles into your thigh. you know it is killing him and you cannot stand it. you know the only thing you can do to help him though, is to listen to him and give him the most comfort you can manage.

you sigh, hand coming to run through his sweaty, messy curls. "i know, baby. it's coming and it will be so fucking great when it does. i'll be here waiting for you and then we can celebrate like it's first, huh? that sound good?"

you can feel the small smile lando manages on your leg as he nods against it.

you stay like that for what seems like ages but you know it cannot be that long because before lando can even ask the time there is a knock on his door, alerting him that he had press to do in two minutes. he sighs and hauls himself from his comfortable position.

"you're so strong lan, be strong." you tell him with a quick kiss to his lips. lando knows it is a good luck kiss. lando also knows that you know how much he hates doing any kind of press or media when he was feeling like this.

"wish you could come with me." lando's frown is so deep it sort of looks like a half pout half frown. you smile at his cuteness.

"when you come back we can go back to the hotel, order in and watch that adam sandler film you like."

this seems to perk the boy up significantly as he give you a peck on the forehead before rushing out to get his media done and dusted. a night in with you sounded like heaven to him right now. he did not want to me reminded of the events of the day's race but he would put up with it for the end result. you and him cuddled up, together. it is all he ever wants.

[deathmetalangel]

HARDLY SEEMS FAIR

robby keene x fem! reader

warnings: "casual" relationship", swearing, arguments, crying, heavily ldr coded, implied hookups, slut shaming, cheating, angsty

“in what world is that fair robby?"

oke so this is kinda a retconnned chapter from my wattpad book that i'm just extending and making more ambigious instead of clearly x oc. i hope y'all like it tho. i am sorry i have been gone for so long :(

Y/n plays with the ends of Robby's hair. He was laying with his head in her lap while they just relaxed in her room. It was calm, domestic. A small and very rare moment for just the two of them. No outside force would intrude and break their safe haven. There was no what if's that lingered in the air. Nor past resentments that hung over them like an ominous cloud determined to damper their moods. 

It was just Y/n and Robby. And that's all they'll ever be. No labels. She figured that much after the last time she'd brought it up. But she's become so full of him she can't even bring herself to care. She'd rather have what they have now, whatever it may be with him. Rather than risking losing him, and the routine she's started to build around him. 

She hums softly. Her mind far off. "Y/n?" She hymns in acknowledgement without turning her head. "Something happened this weekend."

He was lying. This had been going on for weeks. He had been having doubts for weeks. He'd been seeing her for weeks. "What happened? Another karate fight?" She wasn't the girl who got heartbroken. She was never the second choice. She got what she wanted. And she wanted him, however she could have him.

"I kissed Sam Larusso."

Y/n freezes. Her body betraying her as she tenses up. She has no right, she knows that. They were 'casual'. Just her and Robby. Non-commital.

"I mean big deal right? We were drunk anyways. Just felt bad not telling you. I know were not dating so it's really not your business, but don't worry about it. I mean we've fucked so often what does a kiss even mean?"

A kiss. To her it meant everything. An act of intimacy that they rarley ever shared. So innocent, so pure.

"Get out of my room Robby." Y/n mumbles, her voice above a whisper. The teen sits up from her lap and looks at her incredalously. He was only telling her to keep her in the loop. She didnt have the right to be mad. So why was she making a big deal about this?

"What?"

"You heard me. Get the fuck out of my room Keene."

He furrows his brows in a toxic coctail of anger and confusion. "Why? You can't get pissed at me for this Y/n. We aren't fucking dating. Don't get all aggro on me like you're some psycho girlfriend when you're a friend with benefits at best."

Y/n stands up and pushes the boy out of her room. "Get the fuck out of here Robby! If it didn't mean anything why don't you go fuck her then? Go whine about your mommy issues and daddy issues to her and leave me the hell alone."

"You have some nerve you know that right? Don't act all high and mighty now. You're a whore. Why the hell would I ever actually take you seriously when I can get everything I want without the label or work. You're easy, I could never do that shit with Sam."

Her breath was stuck in her throat as the boy she truly thought cared began to berate her as if she was a random person on the street. The boy she suffered for. The boy that was really never her's to keep. Y/n forces herself to wipe her anrgy tears and push Robby once again.

Y/n's hands were shaky, she desprately wanted to cry. To scream. To give in and give him the satisfaction of getting to her. "Oh so you can come over whenever you want, make me listen to your shitty life, and basically force yourself into my own life, but all that means nothing right? Well guess what Kenne. You kissed her, and she still doesn't want you!" She presses her finger into his chest while her voice level rises. "That same girl is still with Miguel. So just because you wanna jump ship and 'upgrade' doesn't mean she wants anything to do with you. Face it babe, you're just white trash."

"Shut the fuck up Y/n." Robby practically spits back.

"Oh, so you can disrespect me and belittle me in my own fucking room, but when its you its a problem? Grow up Robby. You're a man baby and a hypocrite. In what world is that fair Robby? Maybe in your little made up fantasy where Sam picks you and you leave me for dead. So go stay there. Cause you're sure as hell not welcome here."

Y/n throws everything he's given her at him. Every last peice a memory they shared together. Posters, drawings, braclets, anything that adorned her room. All of it thrown to him and crashing down like victims of a violent storm. Tears streamed down her face as he backed up to her door.

She opens the door for him and grabs his sweater and keys before shoving it in his chest. The boy watches her dumbfounded.

"Stay away from me Robby. Go back to some other slut that can put up with your baggage and shitty attitude for one night stand status. Because I'm done."

He looks at her, but there wasn't the girl he knew looking back at him. Not with how she glared, not with how she stood, and not with how she felt. Her eyes, the e/c irises reflected love, now they were dark. Harbors for her contempt. The grimace on her face was unforgettable. Especially as the last thing he seen before she slammed her door on his face.

Robby swallows the spit in his mouth, a hard lump of guilt not wanting to go down. He didn't think any of this would happen. He wanted her to care, but he didn't want to fight. His temper, his father's god forsaken temper, and his own damned ego.

He wanted what he had with her, with Sam. The girl next door with a rich family and big house. Like something out of a book. Not the girl that did whatever he said for the sake of making him happy. He really did want to just abandon her, didn't he? After everything.

Choking back his frustrations the boy marches down her stairs and lets himself out. He liked what he had with her, but he wouldn't fight for her. Guys only did that for the girl they want.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 15 - Drive

@jegulus-microfic May 15, Word count 734

Previous part First part

“Stop fiddling with it,” James warned as he watched Regulus poke the leaf with his tongue. 

“I can’t help it,” Regulus whined. Over the past few weeks, Regulus had opened up a bit to James and, apparently, underneath all that snark, he was a whiny little brat. Just like his brother. James honestly didn’t know how he coped with both of them. “Are you going to get the dew tonight?” Regulus asked, finally done with prodding at the leaf. 

“Mmhmm,” James nodded. He’d have to go into the forest this evening to be able to walk far enough in to find somewhere human feet or sunlight had never touched, and he’d be exhausted by the time he got back to the castle, but he’d cleverly picked a weekend to do it so no one would notice if he slept in.

A cold wind had swept over the grounds and only James’s sheer will kept the invisibility cloak from soaring off into the darkening grounds. He swore he spent most of his time out here when it was dark. 

Once he was hidden by the tree line, the wind couldn't hit him as hard. He whipped off the cloak and stuffed it into his robes. He walked a bit further in before transforming into the magnificent stag, as his white tail would be a beacon in the gloom for anyone watching. 

It felt good to be Prongs. His feet, while dainty, were strong and somehow always knew where to step, even on the most uneven ground. He had to be careful of his antlers catching on low branches, but he’d gotten pretty good at running through the forest and not letting that happen. His ears pricked as a knarl scuttled out from the undergrowth, snorted at him and continued on its way. He wasn’t sure if it knew he was an animagus or if it just didn’t like stags. Either way, it was gone now. He picked up the jar he’d brought with him between his teeth and walked into the gloom. 

He’d selected a wide-brimmed specimen jar, so that he could easily manoeuvre it in his animal form. Remus had even marked on the side of it how much he’d need to collect to fill seven teaspoons. Remus had also added a stiff handle that he could grasp it with his teeth.

It took him hours to get into a part of the forest where the undergrowth was so thick a human would give up trying to get through it and so dark he couldn’t see the sky. It was perfect. 

Lucky for him, Prongs’s legs walked over the undergrowth as though it were nothing. He found a plant with huge leaves and dropped the jar beside it. Now for the hard part. He lowered himself to the ground and with his teeth grabbed the giant cork protruding out of the neck and yanked it free. 

He placed it under one of the huge leaves and gently shook the leaf. A few drops fell into the jar. He tried again and soon had all the dew off that leaf safe in the jar. He moved on to the next one. 

It took him far longer to collect enough dew than it had to get through the forest. The amount of dew had just risen above the line Remus had drawn, when his ears twitched and his body tensed. There was something here with him and his animal self was telling him to run. He fought it and waited. 

Silently, he replaced the jar's cork and held the handle tightly between his teeth. 

A twig snapped close by and the drive to flee became too much. He spun around and fled. 

A roar followed him as he darted between trees with his head down. He had no idea what had been stalking him, but he wasn’t hanging around to find out. He didn’t dare look back and pushed on. His jaw clamped down hard as he leapt into the air over a fallen branch, and continued running. 

The relief that flooded him when he broke through the tree line and the morning sun-soaked castle burst into view was indescribable. 

He trotted over to the greenhouses and transformed. He was sweaty and exhausted but as he held up the jar in front of himself, a huge grin spread across his face. He hadn’t spilt a drop.  

Next part

[natalievoncatte]

Lena was in the dark in more ways than one.

The lights in her penthouse were all dark save one, a night light in her en suite to ensure that she didn’t take a fall if she got up. Swirling the edge of a migraine, she’s grown tired of an again-delayed product launch and the hoary halls of power and their patriarchs. Few things frustrated her more than the spiteful condescension of old men clinging to a world with all the success of a man trying to gather all the sand in a desert through chapped fingers.

Few things annoyed her more.

One of those things, she could give no name. Since Lena had realized Kara’s identity, things had been tense between them. Mostly in a pleasant way; they had been feeling out this new normal, Kara tentatively broaching this or that topic to add to brunch chats and lunchtime gossip.

“Oh,” she’d say, “that last alien hit pretty hard,” as if being knocked clean through a fertilizer plant by a blow to the head were part of her commute.

To Lena it was all new, but there was something else with it. Something neither of them dared to name, some friable, delicate new shape that they could only feel by its edges. It began with Kara bombarding Lena with friendship. Fresh breakfasts hand-delivered at hypersonic speeds. Daily lunches. For the last month, Kara had spent every weekend at Lena’s, or vice versa.

Lena’s penthouse had a guest bedroom. Kara’s place had a bed and a sofa. Comfy, but it was no bed. That was how the dance began. The first steps were hesitant, the dancers circling each other without breaking the barrier. A token argument about who gets the bed, only for them both to share it. And once they’d shared it at Kara’s place, it made no sense for Lena to confine a living space heater to the guest room.

They didn’t discuss, or analyze, or talk it out. No boundaries were ever set, and so the dance continued. What started as two people curled up in a big king bed on opposite sides became the pair of them entangling during the night, then skipping the pretext and curling up with each other before the lights went out.

It was driving Lena insane. Kara never pushed, not really, and yet it just seemed to happen. It was as if her best friend was daring her to take the initiative. The morning when Lena awoke to find Kara’s arm protectively curled about her waist, her thumb hooked on the waistband of Lena’s lounge pants, she’d almost turned over and said something.

The excuse she made was that Kara needed her sleep after the pummeling she’d taken that afternoon. That Lena enjoyed how Kara grazed the pad of her thumb over Lena’s hip bone was incidental.

Lying in the dark, Lena knew that Kara had arrived by the sound of the balcony door opening and didn’t bother to call out to her. Still dressed in her suit, Kara peeked into the bedroom, her movements tentative, somehow almost birdlike.

She came back a moment later with a cool, damp cloth for Lena’s forehead and a few murmured questions, before excusing herself.

“Darling, you can stay,” Lena sighed. “I want you to.”

“Okay,” Kara whispered back, lightly seeping stray curls from Lena’s eyes. “I need to change. No peeking.”

And why would you be worried I’ll peek? Lena thought. A platonic Best Friend isn’t going to peek. Best friends don’t do that, just like they don’t nuzzle into each other on the couch. If Lena were Kara’s best friend, then Lena wouldn’t be looking so much, so openly. Admiring Kara’s smile and her biceps and the way her abdominal muscles strained those button-downs.

She wouldn’t be thinking so much about the touches, the way she’d sat in Kara’s lap for hours at a time or how Kara had carried her to bed or how Supergirl had lingered to cradle her post-rescue, well past the point of safety.

Lena wasn’t aware she was peeking until she’s already started. Kara’s suit had taken care of itself; it was her work clothes she needed to discard. When Lena turned over, there was the broad expanse of Kara’s beautifully muscled back, flexing deliciously as she pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms.

Because Kara kept multiple sets of PJs at Lena’s place.

In Lena’s bedroom.

Because this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

Lena turned back, knowing with certainty that Kara knew. She must have heard the creaking of the mattress and the soft whisper of skin on silk sheets and the rapidity if Lena’s traitorous heart.

When Kara climbed in with Lena, the world shrank around the pair of them. Kara swept immediately to the boundary tonight, gathering Lena in her arms, hands finding spots just on this side of chaste, and their bodies molded together.

Lena was finally able to get some sleep.

When she awoke, later, Kara stirred with her.

“Zhao,” Kara muttered.

Lena froze, blinking in the dark. That wasn’t a nonsense word; it was Kryptonian.

“Come back. Zhao,” Kara muttered, as Lena stirred. She didn’t seem to be properly waking.

A nickname?

Lena couldn’t remember when she’d started calling Kara Darling, though she increasingly wished she had.

Dear diary, it was on this day at this date that I admitted my feelings to myself before wrapping them in cardboard and then in concrete and then in steel before shoving them somewhere deep down.

Kara, for her part, had tried a few pet names but most were one offs, never quite fitting. She’d even called Lena “buddy” once before Lena had cut that shit off with an arched brow.

Lena stilled. She could deny Kara nothing, and so drifted off to sleep.

By some quirk of fate, they woke almost at the same time. Lena was still groggy and bleary-eyed when Kara’s sky-blues flitted open, bringing more light than the sun itself. She shifted in the bed without letting Lena go and began to murmur something in Kryptonian, cutting herself off as that last sharp, buzzing word tumbled from her lips.

The only world froze. Kara stared at Lena with wide eyes, and the sudden tension between them made both women go rigid, neither willing to move, to break it.

“You called me that in your sleep,” Lena finally whispered. “Zhao. What does it mean?”

Kara was unusually pale.

“Oh, it’s sort of a term of endearment in Kryptonian. It means, um, ah…”

Lena sighed, cracking a soft smile. “Kara, I’m not fluent by any measure, but I know enough Kryptonian to know what Zhao means.”

“Oh,” Kara whispered, barely more than a short and sharp exhale.

“Even if I didn’t,” Lena whispered, locking eyes with her. “Your hand is literally on my ass right now.”

“Oh. Um. Golly. I’m sorry, I…”

Kara started to pull back. Lena gently took hold of Kara’s wrist and held her hand there. Her heart fluttered not only at the strength in Kara’s forearm but how those steel cable muscles went slack beneath her touch.

Lena swiveled her hips.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Kara whispered.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve got that covered,” said Lena.

Kara shivered. “No, I mean… I don’t know what to…” She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing.

Lena pressed in closer, until the space between them was more a theoretical concept than an actuality.

“Just say what you want to say.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Lena snorted a laugh, briefly ashamed at her inner dork, and afraid that Kara would take offense.

“Kara, you’ve been sleeping over every weekend with your hand in my pants for months. Yes, I will be your girlfriend.”

Kara grinned, starting to sit up.

“Come on, zhao,” said Kara.

Giving their partner a nickname/having their partner give them a nickname.

[its-time-to-write]

Hi love! Im obsessed with your writing. They actually make my whole day!!

I was wondering if you could do something with like protective!Jamie? Like maybe they’re out at a club and some guy won’t leave her alone!

Whatever you like? Thank you!

I did it! I didn’t know what gif to put with this. Wasn’t sure I’d finish it this weekend, but I got it done! I have finals next week, which either means I’m going to have a bunch of time or none at all. And again, thank you for being so kind. Many anonymous requests are not. 💚🍊

don’t go yet

Roy only lets Jamie go to the club when Richmond has won, which is why you’re both dressed up tonight. 

“You can have two drinks. Not fucking four, not fucking three, two. And if you fucking go over, your girlfriend will fucking tell me,” Roy had said.

Jamie had relayed this to you, more than a tad scandalized, but you just shrugged and said, “Roy’s not wrong.”

So now you’re at the club and Jamie’s had one drink that he’s been making last way too long, but he’s finally downed it and you’ve offered to grab him another one. Dani’s in the middle of some hilarious story about his old team, involving shaving cream, an unsuspecting coach, and… snails? Anyway, Jamie’s deeply invested in whatever it is which is why you’re at the bar waiting for your drinks and he’s sitting down. 

You’re contemplating what you want to do to Jamie once you get home, when an unfamiliar body sidles up to the space next to you.

You half-turn away to give him more space, but he just moves closer so you give him a look. The man, oblivious, says, “Hello gorgeous, name’s Max. What’s a sexy little thing like you doing out here all alone?”

Any distaste you had been stifling out of politeness ends. “I’m not alone, I’m here with my boyfriend,” you reply shortly. 

Max makes a show of surveying the room. “Don’t see him,” he says, “so I suppose you’re fair game.”

Your drinks appear, and you grab them. “I’ve got to go.”

“Hey now, I’m only trying to be fucking friendly. Your boyfriend doesn’t let you have friends?” He’s now blocking your path back to Jamie. You try to dodge around him, but he won’t let you. 

Max does not like that, and he snarls, “Don’t be such a bitch, I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind me having a turn, especially if he lets you out of the house looking like that.”

Your words catch in your throat, and before you can look around for help, there’s a tap on Max’s shoulder. 

“Oi mate,” says Jamie, voice calm but eyes simmering with rage, “pretty sure she wants to be left alone.”

Max turns to assess Jamie and you dart past him, behind your boyfriend. “And what’s it to you, shithead?”

Oh god. The last thing Jamie needs is to get into a fight tonight. You know that Nate would love nothing more than to bench Jamie whenever an opportunity presents itself. 

“Jamie,” you whisper, “let it go.”

Jamie doesn’t even look at you. “I’m her boyfriend, shithead.”

Max’s eyes betray a hint of surprise, then before you or Jamie can do anything he moves to shove Jamie. Jamie tenses up for a push that never happens, because Isaac has shown up from out of nowhere and has grabbed Max from behind. 

“Time to go, bruv,” Isaac says as he and Dani haul Max away.

Jamie fists are still clenched as he turns to you. Despite the anger on his face, his voice is gentle. “You alright, love?” 

You nod wordlessly and hand Jamie his drink. He takes both of them and puts them down. Your brain is playing catch-up because everything happened so fast.

“You wanna go?” he asks.

You nod again then shake your head. “No!” you protest, “This is your night out!”

Jamie’s hands are on your waist now, and you’re a little grateful because it’s grounding. You’re still reeling a bit.

“Babe,” he says, “I’m fucking exhausted, and you are too. And don’t fuckin’ lie, it ain’t gonna work. You’ve got little circles under your eyes. Let’s go home.”

You shut your mouth and sigh. That boy. He knows you too well. 

On your way out he says, “Can we do face masks? Can feel me face losing its sexy glow.”

You smile and squeeze his hand. Only Jamie can make a shit night into something good.

[hoshigray]

Only You Can Tie My Hands | K. Nanami

Hear me out: Nanami returns home from work to his loving partner, and you happily welcome him. Taking off his blazer, led him to the bedroom, giving him a "massage," doing all the things to help ease the poor blonde of stress. But what does a "massage" entail, and why does it involve his necktie?

A/n: Although it may seem like I only write for Toji because most of the stuff I put out is about him (bc I'm his one and only domestic wife outside of his late one whom I respect), don't get it twisted!! Some of these JJK men can make me swoon just like him (Choso and Nanami, my darlings~~~), so I'm writing yet another lil something in honor of one of them! This draft was an option for a poll but wasn't picked for a drawing. However, that doesn't mean I can't post it at all sooooo you get a win, Nanami stans :D

Cw: slight dom! reader x Nanami - the reader is androgynous or gn! bc I wrote pretty ambiguously in this piece - slight bondage (you tie up Nanami's wrist with a ribbon cloth) - sex with a blindfold (using Nanami's tie) - sensual touching - kisses on the body - handjob - ball massaging - blowjob - pet names (Nanami calls you beloved, darling, love, sweet pea; you call him "babe" and "honey") - throatfucking kind of (??) bc you go at your own pace.

Wc: 2k

It was a difficult day, but that's usual for Nanami Kento.

Today he had meetings after meetings with many of his sorcerer subordinates, had to go on two missions, and, of course, had to deal with the ever-annoyingly casual Gojo Satoru.

Nothing he couldn't handle, but the poor blonde man would be a fool to say he wasn't exhausted. All he wants to do is be in his space, his home. He can practically feel the soft surface of his bed.

It's all he's thinking about when he opens the door to his apartment and crouches to take off his shoes.

"Kento!"

Okay, that was a lie. There was something else he's been dying to see once he left work. Something more precious than his bed.

Then comes you walking from the corner, and your bright smile was the first thing that captured him. It was filled with such a glow that his fatigue almost vanished there and then.

He offers a small smile and straightens himself to greet you. "Hello, my love."

Your smile beams harder. It was a good thing Nanami wore his goggles before removing them. You rush to kiss him, and he hums into your lips. Then your gleeful glow is substituted with instant worry. "Oh honey, what happened to you? You look as if you didn't eat anything!"

"I didn't," Nanami admits as you unbutton and take his tan blazer. He follows you to the bedroom, where you hang his suit in the closet while he flops onto the bed.

"Kentyyy~" You use his nickname before you lecture him. A smile quirks up on his lips because you're the only one who refers to him with said name, and he prefers to keep it that way. "You're so lucky I cooked up something. You know you have to eat!"

Nanami hums, readjusting to lie on the pillow and headboard. His eyes follow your figure sit beside him, a warm hand coming up to stroke his cheek. "I know, darling. I was just caught up in too much, is all."

And you know he's telling the truth. It's the fourth day in a row that Nanami comes from work looking way more exhausted than he'd allow. But it was worse yesterday when he returned from past daylight hours, surprising even him. His face still looks the same, but you can make out slight depictions of dark circles forming under his eyes and muscles tensing, not from lack of sleep but because of his body being worn out.

Despite your worry, all he asks is for you to stay safe and smile. And you do just that with a willing heart. Thank goodness it's a Friday.

"Well. since the weekend is finally upon us," a brow is drawn upwards from your building excitement. "I cooked your favorite: chicken alfredo. But!" You cheekily stop him from saying something because his mouth opens, yet no words dare leave until you finish your sentence. "With a bread bowl! And yes, the pasta isn't ribbon."

A chuckle is well-received as you smile harder. "Oh, really? Is that what you've been working on all day?"

"Uhh, of course!" You proudly huff as you lightly pinch his cheek. "You've been working too hard this week, so you deserve to be spoiled by me!"

"You spoil me already just by living with me, my love." He leans in to kiss you, which you gladly reciprocate. One kiss leads to two, and two leads to three.

You break the kiss when you feel a hand finds its way behind your head, giggling at his sneaky action. "Aht aht aht, can't go having dessert without a meal."

"Oh, I know," his forehead gently lands on yours, "but wouldn't you be so kind as to let a tired man like me have a little taste?"

The way his mocha brown eyes survey yours, practically begging you for any sign of yielding to his request, it almost has you drop your guard down. But something else comes to your mind, and you can feel your grin go from ear to ear.

"Perhaps I have an idea to relieve you from your stress, Mr. Nanami." You lightly push his back onto the headboard, your eyes silently commanding him not to move from that spot. He indulges as you get up and grab for something in the closet. You come back to the bed with a smooth ribbon fabric. "Please put your hands up above your head."

A brow is raised, yet Nanami continues to oblige your wishes. With grace and patience, you wrap the fabric around his wrists and tie them onto the headboard. Nanami now voices his thoughts. "Something tells me you're going to get more out of this than me."

You only giggle as you untie his necktie from his blue dress shirt. "I wouldn't say that when I haven't even started yet, Kenty." You then tell him to close his eyes and wrap the dotted material around them.

Completely vulnerable in his line of sight, Nanami feels the weight of your body dent the bed as you move from the side of him down to where his legs are. He feels your hands slide down from his chest in tease, fingers delicately tracing his abdomen after you unbutton his shirt to reveal his well-built physique. You sensually kiss his body as your hands roam to his tan pants.

His breathing goes uneven when you spread his dressed legs apart, leaving his clothed groin in your line of vision. He hears you hum in loving anticipation. Oh, you're definitely getting a kick out of this. The sound of the zipper on his trousers alerts him, and he'd be a fool if he denied the titillation brewing inside him.

As for you, the image of his hard cock in his briefs has you swooned. The urge to pounce him beats your head like a drum, but that will have to wait for later. Because right now is meant to be a moment for him to relax and possibly give you something to do after cooking all day. The groans from Nanami when you stroke his member through the underwear are so hot to the ears that your ass sways from side to side to ease the heat growing south.

When his length is set free, your breath hitches at the marvelous sight. Even after all this time being together, you can't control the arousing pulsation of your core that manages to creep up whenever you see his dick. It's good that Nanami's blindfolded because how you liked your bottom lip would've baffled him.

Speaking of him, the blonde isn't used to this. When it comes to intimacies, looking at you is the highlight. Watching you ride him while his rough hands propel you down to his cock, how your body struggles to take his fingers drilling inside your sensitive hole, or the beatific expression on your face as you beckon him to come close for a kiss as he drives himself deep within you.

Just looking at you as he does whatever with your body can drive him crazy. Take that away, and Nanami feels like he's in an uncertain territory where you do what you want with him. It's a rarity and totally out of routine...That doesn't mean he doesn't like it, though.

How can he, when he silently gasps for air when he feels a wet muscle slide along the underside of his shaft? Or when your lips place teasing kisses on the beautiful veins that decorate his dick? And, oh Lord, when your tongue laps around the tip, causing the man to bite down on his lip?

You laugh at his attempt to suppress himself. "It's alright, honey, no need to limit yourself. Let it all out." You coo at him as your hand snakes up to his dick as the other massages his inner thigh. Pretty fingers slide up and down the length, and the pads of your fingertips rub against the sensitive tip, causing the poor blonde to groan through gritted teeth.

"Haaaah, haaah—Hnngh!" You could listen to his whimpers all day. "Aghhh—Y/n, my beloved, you're so..." The way he slightly ruts his groin towards you is telling. You smile at him even when he can't see it, but he knows you are. He knows you're watching and listening to him dissolve into a mess.

"I know, babe. I know just how to make you relax, huh." The hand on his inner thigh moves to his sack as the other strokes the base. Nanami jolts at both your hands, sculpting his dick simultaneously as his mind runs in circles at the pleasurable torture.

When he senses your plump lips faintly kiss the tip of his cock, he knows he's too far in. He curses the restraints on his wrists and eyes because he only wants to see you take his length to the base right now. Now those thoughts are challenged as your lips take in the pink tip of his member and slowly inch downwards.

Your jaw relaxes while you take in all of him at your own pace, his cock sinking further into your mouth until your lips almost brush his pelvis. His penis pulsating inside your mouth and throat has you under a euphoric spell. You slowly bob your head up and down, putting your hands on his thighs to hold him down before he starts thrusting and screwing with your slow tempo.

Nanami does all he can to maintain his composure, but God, the feeling of your throat on his shaft is doing wonders. Not only do the inner walls of your oral cavity feel so warm around him, but the blindfold has him using his imagination of how you look right now. He can just picture your pretty hooded eyes looking up at him, gauging his reactions as your ass rocks to and fro, tolerating the neediness between your legs.

It kills him that he can't physically see and touch you; however, your fleshy touch, paired with his creative fantasy, is doing just as much. That is, until a hand returns to massaging his balls, urging him to hunch further. He's now close.

"Hnngh!! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," If you weren't so full in the mouth, you'd giggle at the blonde's curses. "I'm about to—Mhmm! Oh God..."

You decide to help him in his release, slowly withdrawing his cock from your mouth and going for the head, your tongue lapping and licking in his most sensitive glands. Your hand on his sack kneed presses down harder, and Nanami wastes no time shooting his load to you. You happily take in his cum with your mouth, none going to waste as you're licking in any excess amounts.

Once he's done ejaculating and you're done drinking his essence, a pop leaves the mark as your lips leave his twitching head while you sigh blissfully.

Nanami breathes heavily in euphoria, "I thought you said...dessert shouldn't come before a meal."

"Don't question the methods of a cook, babe." you climb on top of him to undo the ribbon cloth on the headboard, your pants mixed with his. "So, I hope that helped ease some stress of yours."

"No."

No??

And it was at that moment you realized you probably shouldn't have untied his wrists first. Because one moment you're above him, your back sinking deep into the mattress the next. His hands pin you down by the shoulders, and a leg is positioned between yours, a knee rubbing against the aching sensation between your pants.

Nanami takes off his tie to free his eyes, brown orbs now cast with the intoxicating guise of lust and want. Your blood runs cold. Oh, I'm in danger.

"N-Now, Kenty, we shouldn't be doing this now," you try to plead before he does anything rash. "You have to take a shower and freshen up before dinner or else—"

"No, sweet pea. I don't think it's fair you get to have a piece of me, but I'm subjected to wait afterward to do the same." He removes your pants in seconds and sets your legs on his shoulders. Heat spreads around your face when his face draws near your opening, and you already have a hand grab for his hair in anticipation.

"Dinner can wait, darling. Right now, I just want you."

[winchester-girl67]

Wild Hearts (Part 1)

Summary: Y/N tags along to a bonfire on the beach with her brother and his friends. She tries to fit in with them, but winds up finding more of a connection to the guy crashing the party. 

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader 

Square: Age gap @spnfluffbingo Meet cute @spnaubingo “Are you stupid or stupid?” 

Word Count: 3,374 

Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 16, Dean is 20 but closer to 21), underage drinking, mostly implied physical abuse, past injury (bruising/scars), language, slow burn, a little angst, arguing, maybe a little gaslighting, mutual pining, a kiss to the forehead, fluff 

A/N: Also written for @spnfluffbingo and @spnaubingo. 

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A/N #2: Masterlist summary and warnings have been updated. Please review before reading. 

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Your brother grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you back towards the party going on down the beach. "Stop being such a bitc-" 

"Ow! Quit it, jerk." You tried to shake your arm from his grasp but his fingers dug in, "You're hurting me." 

"Don't be such a baby," he growled, stopping far enough away from the bonfire so the crowd of his friends wouldn't overhear. There was a chill in the air and his friends were gathered closer around the flames now. "I told you, if you wanted to tag along you can't just wander off by yourself. Mom would have my ass if something happened to you on my watch." 

"Screw you, I'm not a baby. Let. Go." 

He finally did. 

"They're all ignoring me. I wanna go home." You said, pointing to the mean girls a ways away. 

"Well, I'm not taking you. I'm not ready to leave yet." He said, crossing his arms over his chest with a glare. 

You knew it was a mistake taking a ride from him in the first place, but you didn't have your own car. And you failed your driver's test over the last weekend. Fun way to spend your sixteenth birthday, with your brother mocking you the whole way home. 

"Then I'll walk or call mom to come get me." 

"No, you won't. Unless you want her to know that I was right and you are a baby." He stared you down, "Just have a drink and relax for a bit, maybe it'll loosen you up and people will want to talk to you." He glanced back at the busty blonde he'd been eyeing all night; the girl you knew he came here for. He'd only been following her around like a lost puppy all summer. She waved and gave him a little wink. "Stop being so selfish, Y/N, and maybe we'll get along for once." 

"I'm selfish?!" You scoffed, you'd only sat around watching the sunset and shuffling your feet in the sand for the past couple hours while he chatted up said blonde. His friends weren't the only ones excluding you. Not that you wanted to be in on that conversation, but you thought the night was going to go a little different. You thought it would be like the old days when things between you weren't so tense all the time. "Just leave me alone and go drool already."

"And you wonder why I never wanna hang out with you anymore." He snapped and stalked away, throwing his arm over the blonde's shoulders when he reached her. Her eyes gleamed in the firelight and you heard her giggle echo along the shoreline when he tickled her sides. 

Everyone liked your brother and you tried to be just like him when you were younger. You were only a year apart but it made a world of difference. You didn't even mind wearing his hand-me-downs until you got to high school and got made fun of for it. But you made your peace with it now, you'd always be more of a tomboy and you couldn't be anyone but yourself. Graphic tees, jeans and sneakers were the epitome of comfort and that's what you wore now while the mean girls had skimpy dresses and tank tops that did nothing against the cold breeze that wafted in from over the open water. 

But a drink might help. 

The beer cooler was up the beach from the horny seventeen and eighteen-year-olds, but you didn't have to pass them to fish one out from melted ice. You cracked it open and took a sip, souring your face instantly and spitting it out onto the sand. 

You heard someone chuckle and whipped around. A tall guy with shadows cast on his face stood a few feet away, watching you. You glanced down to the bottle in your hand, then back at him. He followed your eyes, his expression turning stoic before you could read him. 

"What?" You asked. 

"It's kind of an acquired taste." He nodded towards the bottle in your hand and you took another sip, choking it down to prove him wrong. He wasn't wrong. Beer was gross. "Are you okay?" 

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" 

He cocked his head towards your brother who was now chasing the blonde down towards the shoreline. You didn't think they'd go in, since it was nearly winter and the water was freezing this time of year. But he teased her and grabbed her like he was going to drag her out into the icy depths. 

"Oh. Yeah, he's just an asshole is all and I needed a drink." You explained, raising the beer to your lips for a third sip. 

You wanted him to leave already so you could dump the rest out in the bushes. 

"Same," he nodded and chugged the rest of his own beer. "He shouldn't treat you like that, though." 

You didn't think he overheard but he'd certainly seen the two of you, "He's my brother, that's what brothers do." 

You toyed with the label on your beer, peeling it back from the glass. 

"No, it's not." 

He stepped forward, setting his empty bottle in the bin next to the cooler. The light of the bonfire catching his features enough for you to finally see him. The first thing you noticed was that he was not a friend of your brother's. He was older, too, though you couldn't tell by how much. 

He was a party crasher. Probably here for the free beer. 

"Whatever. It's not like he hits me, he just gets mad and pushes me around a little." You said, stepping back a foot when the guy took another step towards you. 

"He shouldn't. That's called abuse." 

"Not when I do the same to him. Then it's called sibling rivalry." 

"I know abuse when I see it." His voice lowered as he shoved his hands in his pockets. His words held a story he wasn't telling and you didn't ask. 

You eyed him again. Between the full moon and the light of the fire you noted a few details that jumped out at you. He wasn't bad looking, actually kind of cute. His eyes held a world's worth of emotion as if he vaulted it up inside himself and swallowed the key. Days old bruising covered the left side of his face, particularly around his jaw, cheekbone, and eye. And he intermittently sucked on the split in his bottom lip that had reopened, probably from when he first smiled at you. 

"Well, your story isn't mine." You said, having had enough of this stranger who thinks he knows your life at a glance. He sighed and looked away, steeling his jaw and rubbing the back of his neck. Your eyes cast down to his stomach when his shirt lifted and your heart sank at the sight. A thick scar stretched up his torso from his hip and disappeared beneath the dark fabric of his shirt, peeking back out around his collarbone where the neck hole had been worn loose. Someone had hurt him, badly; you thought that must've been why he was so conscious towards abuse. "Sorry, I didn't know-" 

"Do you wanna go for a walk?" He asked, meeting your eyes and taking another step forward. 

You didn't back away this time, though he was still a good five feet away at least. 

"Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, taking off with some judgy guy I just met and wandering down a dark secluded beach alone with him. Real smart. Maybe wait until I've had a couple drinks first, then try again." You rolled your eyes making him laugh silently. 

"I don't hurt women. Ever." He said as if it was a law of his own. 

"What about men?" 

"Depends," he shrugged. 

"On?"

"I've never started a fight in my life." He said, answering a question you didn't ask rather than the one you did. 

"Somehow I don't believe you." You squinted up at him, trying to read him. 

"Then why haven't you walked away yet?" He looked at the party continuing around the bonfire and then back at you. "You don't wanna be here any more than I do, so let me show you something."

"I swear if that something is your-" 

He raised his hands from his pockets and smiled, "I promise it's not. You'll like this." 

"You get five minutes and I'm counting. Also, I'm a black belt so don't even think about trying anything." You lied, although he didn't strike you as the violent type despite the evidence on his face and stomach. 

You scanned the beach for your brother, spotting him still engrossed with the blonde, so you knew he wouldn't notice any time soon if you'd left without causing a scene. You dumped your nearly full beer out onto the sand and set it in the bin with the other empty bottles. Ignoring the knowing smirk from the party crasher as you did so. 

"Beer is kind of gross." 

"Yeah, it is." He chuckled, "but it's cheap and gets the job done." 

"I don't see the appeal," you said, following in stride with him down the beach. The sand beneath your sneakers making it hard to keep up with his long legs. "Can you walk slower?" 

"Sorry," he slowed his pace and you easily caught up. "Drink a bit more than a couple of sips next time and you will." 

"I'd rather waste the calories on chocolate, thank you." 

He laughed silently again and sucked the split in his lip, "What's your name?" 

"Uh, Y/N, you?" 

"Dean." He smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets again. "So, how come I haven't seen you around here before, Y/N?" 

"We just moved here," you said, not wanting to explain how you didn't exactly get out much and explore the town over the summer. 

"Then you haven't been to the pier?" He asked, cocking his head towards the end of the beach where you were headed. 

It wasn't so much a pier as it was a small row of shops and a parking lot. Some storefronts were still lit up against the darkened sky and a lighthouse sat on the rocks near the shore. The light at the top swung around and around over the jagged rocks reaching into the water. 

"Seriously? You wanted to show me a lighthouse? That's not exactly special. Lighthouses are a dime a dozen around here, if you haven't noticed." You said a little disappointed and glancing back at the party. 

The bonfire merely a speck amongst the stars along the beach now. If you accounted for the walk back it would definitely stretch over the five minutes you'd promised him and you stopped walking. 

Dean noticed when you fell behind and turned to you. He laughed a little and smiled, "That's not where we're going." 

He reached out to you and grabbed your hand, tugging you gently until you laughed and skipped a step. He was troubled, that was for sure, but you didn't have a reason not to trust him. Not that trust should be given easily without question; but still, you welcomed the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours as he led you across the parking lot and up to one of the shops. 

"Ice cream," you stared up at the sign before Dean pulled you into the store. 

"Mhm," he licked his lips, guiding you up to the display of tubs sitting in the freezer and separating you from the older blonde woman behind the counter. 

She nodded to Dean like she knew him and he smiled back, "Hey, Donna." She didn't react at all to the bruises on his face and your mind started to wander. 

"I was starting to think I wasn't gonna see ya before closing," she said, retying her pink apron as if she was getting ready to close up for the night. 

"You know me better than that," he feigned hurt and wrapped an arm over your shoulders, tugging you into his side. 

You scanned over the flavours, some so bright you wondered if it was possible to taste a colour. "Isn't it kinda cold for ice cream?"

"Never," Dean shook his head like you'd said something foolish. "These shops are seasonal and it's the last night they're open until they close for the winter. You'll have to wait at least four months before you get this again. And trust me, once you try it, winter will feel like an eternity for your tastebuds." 

You smiled, you couldn't argue with that logic, "What flavour should I get?" You asked, assuming he'd probably have tried them all by the looks of it. 

"My favourite is the mocha with all the little chocolate pieces. It's basic, I know, but classic." He pointed to a tub filled with dark brown speckled ice cream. 

"Two mochas, please." You said. 

"Sure thing," Donna said and scooped you out a couple of cups. 

Dean gave your shoulder a squeeze before giving you some space to enjoy your ice cream.  

He kept eyeing you as you took your first bite, then your second, "And?"

"Okay, you're right. It's fudging amazing! Can we get more?" You asked, glancing back at the shop from where you sat outside on a bench under a streetlamp. 

"You still have a whole cup.” He barked out a laugh and you shovelled a few spoonfuls into your mouth. 

A chilled throb wracked through your brain and you paused mid-bite to squeeze your eyes shut and fan at your frozen mouth. You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth and just as the feeling started to ebb away you felt hot, sticky lips lay flush against your forehead. Dean’s hand held the back of your head and you blinked open your eyes, feeling warm and fuzzy. 

"Better? My mom used to do that for me when I was a kid. Always seemed to help." He said and tilted his head to the side. 

You weren't sure if it was what he did or the shock of the unexpectedness of it, but it dulled the pain. He hadn't backed up an inch and you could see the gold flecks in his green eyes under the streetlamp. Framed by the yellow edges and purple patches of the bruising next to his left eye. His hair was sandy brown and short but still fell over his forehead and brushed the tips of his ears. And freckles speckled across the bridge of his nose on pale skin. He was pretty cute and different from most of the boys you usually met. 

You nodded and blushed, sneaking another spoonful of mocha ice cream between your lips. He laughed silently and leaned back, picking back up his own cup of ice cream from the bench next to him and digging in. 

"You're strange and kinda wonderful." You said around a bite full, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth when the brain-freeze threatened to come back. 

"That's oddly the nicest thing someone's said to me in a very long time." He took a bite and licked his spoon clean. 

"That makes me sad." 

"Makes me happy," he mumbled and smiled. 

"Like I said, strange." 

"Because you're so cool and composed, right?" He's teased, pointing with his spoon. 

"I'm a delight and you know it. That's why you just had to get me away from all those other guys down on the beach. Before they had the chance to notice too, of course." You joked, brushing your hair back when the breeze carried it away. 

"You caught me, I'm a sucker for a girl who tries to bite my head off with one wrong look." 

"You make me sound like a praying mantis." 

"In that case, I guess I'm safe as long as we don't have sex." You both frowned. "Sorry, that was awkward, I swear it sounded funnier in my head. Because you know they only eat their mate after-uh-mating..." He stuck his spoon in his ice cream and stirred until it was smooth like soup, "What?"

"You're blushing," you said, "it's cute." You liked being able to do that to him. "But you should know I'm sixteen." 

"Wait. What?" He looked like you'd just punched him in the gut. "But you were drinking." 

"When did you have your first beer?" 

He thought to himself for a moment, clearly he had been younger than you; then he abandoned his ice cream on the bench beside him. “What about your friends?” 

"Some are eighteen. But most are seventeen, same as my brother, they're his friends." You explained. "Don't ask me how they got the beer." You attempted to lighten the mood but he just stared down at his hands, rubbing at the cuts in his knuckles. "How old are you?" 

“Too old for you,” he shook his head and picked at one of the scabs. “Twenty-one in January.” 

So essentially there was a five year age gap between you. It wouldn’t be a big deal, if only you were older; but for now it didn’t mean you couldn’t be friends. Your gut twisted at the thought of never seeing him again and you could use a friend; and it looked like he could, too. 

Your cell rang and you fished it from your back pocket. Your brother's name sprawled over the screen. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, then answered, "What do you want?"

"Are you stupid or stupid? Where the fuck did you go?!" He shouted and you were sure Dean could hear, so you turned down the volume on your phone. 

"For a walk." 

"We're leaving." 

That meant the blonde was tagging along, either hitching a ride home with you or your brother was just going to drop you off at home before taking her to park somewhere and... -You didn't want to think about it. Your brother, like that. Gross. 

"Maybe I don't wanna leave yet. I made a friend." Dean mirrored your smile. 

"Find your own way home then..." he grumbled a few choice words and hung up. Asshole.

"Any chance you have a car?" You asked, silencing your phone and shoving it back into your pocket. "I need a ride." 

"Uh- no. But I know where we can get one." Dean said as he checked the time on his wrist. You fingered your ice cream and booped him on the nose. "What was that for?" He laughed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. 

You shrugged, "Just trying to lighten the mood. You look so sad," you raised his chin with your fingers, "Chin up, Dean." 

"Did you mean that?" He asked. 

You lowered your hand to rest on the bench between you, "Mean what?"

"That we're friends," he asked, chewing on the split in his lip. At this rate you didn't think it would ever heal over. "I mean, that we can be friends." 

"Uh-huh, unless you don't wanna be my friend." You nodded and searched his eyes, some kind of hurt flashing through them. 

"I think that's all we can be. At least, until you have a couple more birthdays." 

Your typical luck, the one guy you could see yourself interested in and he's too old. It was only nearly five years, sure, but you were only sixteen and he'd probably had a lot more experience that you couldn't compare to. But he was cute. 

Window shopping couldn't hurt right, until you had the means to buy. 

"I can wait," you teased and laughed. "But you look like you could use a friend. And I got your back, since I kind of owe you one for introducing me to this ice cream." 

"You don't owe me anything, Y/N." 

You shivered when the ice cream was gone and Dean stripped out of his hoodie, draping it over your shoulders as you walked along the side of the road towards his house. He apparently didn't live far away and if his father was home, he could 'borrow' his car to give you a ride. He actually used air quotes when he said borrow though, so you were a little skeptical. 

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Part 2

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers @globetrotter28

[whereserpentswalk]

When you met your girlfriend in college she was studying to be a wizard. It didn't suprise you that much, there were a lot of magic majors at your school, and the city that your college is in has a lot of companies that hire wizards.

As time went on you started to realize she was become a very specific type of magic user. Her spells are long, taking yo hours of her time, longer then any other major user you know, and they're draining. She says she's always been interested in magic since when she was a kid, but this particular type of magic isn't something anyone gets into because they find it exciting, it's the type of magic you get into because it pays the most. You understand why she chose this, it's hard for wizards, for anyone really, to find work nowadays.

Your apartment isn't very big so you can hear her trying her spell from the other room every time, straining herself, sometimes screaming, spending the weekends of her youth alone in a closest trying to pull off these impossible spells, with purposes that normal people don't even care about. When you told two freinds you have who are wizards from diffrent specialties of magic, necromancy and illusion, what kind of spells she was doing, they became really afraid for her, and said that they hoped she transfered to a diffrent specialty before she was locked into this path. Every time you hear her screaming from that room you want to grab her and save her, let her rest and enjoy her world, but you know that you can't.

It gets worse once you graduate and while you start working as an artist, she gets hired on by a big company that could use wizards like her. You don't leave the city you went to college in so your freind group doesn't really change, but you realize that all of your freinds start talking about her in the past tense after that. You don't have to deal with hearing her funnel magic though herself in your apartment anymore, but instead you're spending days not really seeing her when she's at the office, and comes home later then you're asleep.

When you do see her, you notice her body getting worse. She was always skinny but now her body has lost so much weight you can see her ribs. Her skin is paler then it ever was before, and her eyes are almost bloodshot. Strange symbols even start appearing on her arms. You're starting to get really worried for her.

Most of the time you spend with her is just her recovering from her work. You'll lay with her in bed, and cuddle her, and let her rest her head on your breasts, and try to make her feel safe and warm, even though her body is so very cold now. You let her talk to you about the things she used to tell you about when she first met, she still loves telling you about video games, or obscure magic lore, though the latter is a bit more of a sore subject now. You watch cartoons with her a lot now, and old anime, they seems to be some of the only things that let her fully escape.

You have to be the one to cook for her, and to get her things, she's just to tired to do most things outside of work. But you still care about her, you try your best to comfort her, to pet her head, and to kiss her. She can't really have sex with you anymore, the spells have killed her libido, killed her ability to her physically aroused, but you end up wanting to cuddle her a lot, and hold her close while you have her. You try to ask if she's ok but she says that she is, that she can't stop doing this. Every time she leaves for work you want to save her, and every time she leaves she can't.

When you ask your other wizard freinds about what she's actually doing with her magic, to try and get some comfort about what's happening, they explain to you what it is. It's a type of magic their teachers taught about but warned agaisnt, that has to do with letting spirits and entities from other realms, sometimes really powerful ones, possess you for a long time, useally to talk and answer question. The necromancer specifically explains that it's useally used by companies to get knowledge about things that they want to know for their business strategies, it's why they pay so much for someone to be hurt like that. Knowing doesn't make you feel any better, it just makes you feel like she's being even more violated now.

Eventually your girlfriend tells you that she got another job opportunity out west, but it's somewhere she doesn't want to see you stuck living. She tells you to stay in the city, and that she'll text you and call you while she deals with this new job. She barely ever gets any chances to text while she's out there, and never calls. She's just able to communicate with you less and less, until she's fully gone.

You're working as an artist in the city now. You have a new partner. You sometimes think about what your old girlfriend is doing, you like to pretend that she got out of everything, that she doesn't talk to you because she found someone new. But you know that in reality very few people in that field actually make it out, and very few manage to stay fully human, it's quite unlikely she's any different.

[itti-bitti-yibbi]

I wrote a little Moon comfort thing, it can be taken as romantic or platonic, I think.

For a lil bit of context, the reader is a nighttime security guard in a post-virus Pizzaplex, and they've known Moon for a while but they have never met Sun.

Reader is stressed and tired and Moon lets them cry and gives them a nap. :P

It's been a long fucking day. A long couple of days, if you're being honest. The past weekend, which was normally your time to recharge before beginning a new work week, had been a whirl of drama and chaos and change all at once.

You are so fucking tired. Just of everything.

But you have to pay rent, so here you are, starting your shift. At least you're not gonna have to deal with any customers or co-workers, working the overnight shift.

The bright lights of the Pizzaplex power down with a resounding whoom as you clock in, leaving the place only barely lit by the neons decorating nearly every wall.

Well, you won't have to deal with any human co-workers, at least.

Your patrol begins in the Theater tonight, so you head off in that direction. You're about halfway to the Daycare shutters when a voice sounds above you.

"Tired," Moon rasps.

"Piss off," you snap back automatically, your whole body tensing immediately afterwards.

There's no response from Moon, and when you look up at him, he's staring at you with his eyes off entirely, his surprise obvious even with his immobile face. When he doesn't move or speak, you look back down at your shoes.

"Sorry," you mutter. "Didn't mean to snap at you."

After a moment you hear Moon's feet hit the ground beside you, too quietly for a robot his size. He leans down and sideways into your view, looking carefully at your face with pale eyes.

"Long day?" He says gently, more gently than you think you've ever heard him. It rattles you to your core.

Moon steps closer, carefully, slowly as a lump forms in your throat and your eyes begin to burn and prick with tears. You try to keep it out of your expression and fail miserably as he gingerly places his hands on your shoulders.

He says your name, barely more than a whisper, and you shatter.

The first sob racks your body, and you collapse against him. He pulls you close as your legs give out, keeping you from falling to the floor.

There are no words for several minutes, just you sobbing uncontrollably as Moon holds you, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. You cling to him while all of the stress and anxiety from the past few days boils over and pours out of you.

When you do speak, it's barely decipherable through your sobbing and sniffles.

"There's just so much- I can't- I just want it all to stop!" You cry, tightening your hold on your friend. "I can't- I can't-"

Moon shushes you gently, pulling you back and cradling your face in his hands. He swipes his thumbs underneath your eyes, catching your tears as well as observing the dark circles that should have lightened since he saw you last, not darkened.

"Breathe, Starlight," he murmurs, producing a tissue and handing it to you. You blow your nose, trying to do as he says, but your breaths are short and shaky, and threaten to turn back into sobs.

After several moments of this, Moon comes to a decision, and scoops you up into his arms. You cry out in alarm and he hushes you.

"No working tonight," he says as he lifts the both of you into the air by his wire, "you will rest."

"But I have to patrol," you argue between sniffles, "I'm at work, I have to do my job-"

"No." Moon cuts you off. "You have to rest. Not suitable for work. I will look after you."

"But what if something happens-"

"I can access cameras," he interrupts you "I will take care of anything that happens."

You don't get another chance to argue. He cuts you off anytime you try, and frankly, that outburst sapped what little energy you had left.

Moon brings you into the daycare, then up to his room, and before you can try to object, he has you swaddled in a blanket and rested in his lap. He removes your cap, setting it beside him on the floor, and cards his fingers softly through your hair, watching your sleepy expression. Though his face doesn't change, you can feel the softness of his gaze.

"Sleep, Starlight," he whispers. "Dream sweet dreams, that you may awake with a lighter heart."

You chuff a short, sleepy laugh. "Theater kid," you mutter.

Moon chuckles quietly, followed by a comfortable silence. You're past the point of trying to fight sleep, and your mental and physical exhaustion is overcoming you rapidly. As you drift off, you're fairly certain you hear him begin to hum a gentle lullaby.

You will sleep until your alarm goes off, the one you set on your phone to tell you when to clock out, after that time Moon conveniently "forgot" to tell you your shift was over on the night the power went out and the lights couldn't keep him on a timer.

Until then, Moon keeps watch over you, also checking the cameras in the background, but mostly watching your sleeping face. The way your eyes flit behind the lids when you dream. He wonders if you are dreaming of him, your friend, your protector.

He hopes your dreams of him are sweet, rather than terrifying.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Blessed Heir of the Abyss (Abyssal Prince Childe x Reader)

Synopsis: After centuries of conflict, Teyvat and the Abyss are attempting to make peace with one another. To solidify new alliances and let go of past grudges, the Abyssal Prince Tartaglia will choose a spouse from the people above to rule over the Abyss with him.

That spouse happens to be you, an ordinary, Visionless citizen of Liyue.

Prologue: His Royal Highness

Next

Warnings: Mentions of panicking, Zhongli being protective, Childe doesn’t care about you in the beginning, Hu Tao cries, an Abyss Herald calls you “it” at one point, SLOW BURN

~ * ~ Once upon a time, a shining kingdom was constructed under the earth. Lit by starlight and shrouded in darkness, it became known as the Abyss, and was ruled by whoever the monsters favored. In an effort to end the eternal conflict, the Heir shall travel to the land above to witness the sea, and join hands with the sun. Liyue is beautiful today. You’ve never seen such a blue sky, nor such a brilliant sun- it beckons you outside for errands and chores, things you normally loathe to do but now you step outside with a smile, squinting happily up at the light. It’s the weekend- shopping day- and you’re looking for sunsettias and spices at the market. In the distance you can see Zhongli, a friend and family, and he lifts a hand in greeting before falling in step beside you. An ageless soul, the funeral parlor consultant always has a new story to amaze you with, and today is no exception as he weaves the tale of Azhdaha the Geovishap Lord as you walk the streets. Hu Tao’s waiting at the market, her perpetual grin only widening as she darts over and snags your hand, swinging it back and forth with a bubbling laugh. It draws a chuckle from you as well, and Zhongli smiles fondly at your antics with the young director. She practically drags you down the street, leaving Zhongli in the dust as she talks a mile a minute- rumors and gossip, gossip and rumors, there’s seemingly nothing that she doesn’t know or hasn’t heard of. “Sooo? Are you coming tonight?” She looks at you with an impish twinkle in her eye and you simply shrug. “Aw, come on! It’s not everyday I get to have a poetry battle with Xingqiu! Yanfei is the judge!” Hu Tao giggles in mischievous delight and eventually you can’t keep your own smile from blooming across your face, the parlor director’s joy contagious. Zhongli’s caught up to you by now, tapping lightly on Hu Tao’s hand clasped around your wrist with a stern look. “Director Hu, you’re going to injure them, pulling like that.” With a pout she releases you from her bruising grip and skips on ahead, you and Zhongli following close at her heels, a tender look shining in his golden eyes- ah, he adores the parlor director like a daughter, despite how he chastises her, and with one glance you know the sentiment is extended to you as well. You incline your head with a small smile, but it quickly fades when the oppressing sound of silence hits your ears, the streets backed up by people yet making no noise, no small talk about the weather or trade commerce or anything else that might catch their interest. The only sounds are frightened whispers, and you crane your neck in an attempt to see what’s going on, glancing at Hu Tao in confusion. Heavy footsteps, metallic and foreboding, march down the street, and immediately you feel goosebumps rise on the back of your neck as inhumanly tall figures come into view. An Abyssal entourage parts the crowd like a sea, the people of Liyue edging away in fear. The Lady Ningguang stands to the side, looking small and dainty compared to the height of Abyss Heralds and Lectors, and stares resolutely ahead, not daring to spare a single glance towards anyone but the distant horizon as a tense hush settles over the city. Hu Tao encircles your arm in a vice grip, scarlet eyes blown wide and Vision aglow, ready for battle despite her lack of a weapon while Zhongli holds a comforting hand to your back, normally calm demeanor betrayed by his stiff shoulders, as even he cannot feel safe when creatures from the Abyss are near. No one in Teyvat feels safe in the presence of the Abyss, despite the best efforts of the nations to set aside their differences after centuries of war. Even the late Geo Archon had returned, you’ve heard, having faked his death at the last Rite of Descension, and yet still relations remained tense or worse. You’ve heard that people used to go missing wherever the Abyss would begin creeping into Teyvat, and would crawl back out tainted and warped. You shiver, and Zhongli’s palm pushes against your spine in reassurance. From the midst of the monstrous ambassadors a young man emerges, strikingly human in comparison to the Lectors and Heralds who step aside and bow to him, surveying the gathered citizens with boredom. He’s certainly handsome, with copper-colored hair and fine clothing, but his brilliant blue eyes are so lightless and dim that it feels like you’re outside in the dead of night, not a moon or star in the sky. For a split second, his eyes lock onto yours, and you dig your nails into your palm. It’s like you’re staring at a corpse. An elegant hand extends from his richly-made cloak and points, at random, into the crowd. “That one.” Your blood turns to ice and your body goes rigid as Hu Tao lets out a horrified shriek, because he’s pointing at you. “No!” Zhongli steps forward, rage alight in his eyes and glaring furiously at the strange man, shoving you and Hu Tao behind him. His gaze snaps to Ningguang, “Lady Tianquan, what is the meaning of this?” But she doesn’t speak, merely averting her gaze towards the ground, shame finally showing through the cracks in her facade. A Herald approaches, surveying your shell-shocked figure with distaste but nodding anyway. “It’ll do,” With a single, swift motion the Abyss Herald snatches your wrist and pulls you away from Hu Tao, nearly dislocating your shoulder in the process when you struggle desperately against his grip. He brings you to stand beside the ginger-haired man, sharp claws leaving tears in the sleeves of your shirt. With a dry throat you gulp down your fear, trying to steady your shaking voice, “What do you want?” The mysterious man looks at you, eyes flat and lifeless, “You’re my spouse.” The world goes silent around you. “...What?” “My spouse. It’s part of the agreement,” he says, turning away. “Agreement…?” You twist your head to Ningguang, and she closes her eyes, as if to confirm what he said. You blink, mouth open in shock, and stumble backwards a few steps. Your vision begins to blur and swim, tension tightening in your chest and turning everything into vague smears of color as the concept of safety begins to slip through your fingers like sand. “No. I won’t allow it,” Zhongli’s deep voice cuts through your daze like a knife and brings you back to reality. He’s nearly snarling at the strangers, looking more enraged than you’ve ever seen him with his polearm already in hand. Hu Tao’s slightly behind him, torn between seeming annoyed or confused and settling on a middle ground of both, hands on her hips. A low, snakelike hiss rises in one of the Lector’s throats, “Show more respect to Prince Tartaglia, lest you desire to break the contract between Liyue and the Abyss.” Zhongli grits his teeth hard enough to crack, and you swear the tips of his hair glow bright gold, then he exhales slowly and crosses his arms, fury simmering just beneath the surface, “And why was this not discussed with the Harbor beforehand?” The Lector simply levels Zhongli with a chilly stare. “It’s His Royal Highness’s right.” And with that you’re pushed into a walk, the Abyss surrounding you as you trip over your own feet, ripping you away from your peaceful life, away from your little house with its sunlit rooms and vases on the windowsill, away from the city you were born and raised in. Away from friends and family; the people you love. You cast a silent, pleading glance towards the man- the Prince Tartaglia, begging for him to let you go. But he simply stares back at you, azure blue eyes blank and unfeeling, and involuntarily you shiver. He feels nothing towards you- not happiness, curiosity, disgust, hatred- nothing, and somehow that’s more frightening than if he did despise you. The Prince feels nothing towards you, because you’re just a pawn in a celestial game. Zhongli and Hu Tao can only watch in despair, paying no mind to the people in the streets beginning to resume their daily activities, simply grateful that it wasn’t them who was chosen. Ningguang steps closer, regret laced in her voice. “My Lord, I’m sorry-” “Don’t,” Zhongli says sharply, eyes flaring with hardened grief. “An apology means nothing.” And he’s right, for only he has seen what the Abyss does to people, corroding their sense of being and mind until they give in and become one with the starlit waves. “Zhongli…” Hu Tao looks up, scarlet eyes swimming with tears. “They’ll… they’ll be okay, right? I mean,” she lets out a humorless laugh, “I might be a funeral parlor director, but…” she shakes her head to clear it and scrubs her cheeks. “Director, I do not lie. For your own sake, perhaps that question should remain unanswered,” Zhongli lets out a sigh, giving the young director’s hat a few pats as she mourns the loss of her best friend. His own unease settles, hanging in the air like a sickly haze, the answer to Hu Tao’s question ringing clear despite his refusal. I don’t know.

[raincitygirl76]

I wonder how much of the Sargust fallout in 2.06 was due to August being an only child…

He clearly did not anticipate Sara reacting as badly as she did to finding out that her boyfriend had used her tipoff to blackmail her little brother. He probably figured she wouldn’t be happy. But her level of betrayal seemed to catch August off guard. But then, August doesn’t know what it’s like to be truly pissed off at your sibling, but they’re still your sibling.

I had a fight with my sister on the weekend, and we just made up via text. We’re both gone 40 and she’s married with 2 kids (who have their own sibling rivalry issues). But she’s still my little sister, and fighting with her is still not fun.

Sara in 1.06 was not happy with Simon, and I suspect that made it easier for her to cut that deal with August. Judging by 1.06, August could have assumed that Sara doesn’t like Simon very much, and won’t particularly care what August does to him. But again, August has no siblings.

Sara cut a deal with August in 1.06 when she felt betrayed by her brother and panic-stricken at the thought of her mother forcing her to return to the old school where she had been viciously bullied. But eventually Sara’s anger at her little brother cooled. And he remained her little brother.

A few months pass. Simon and Sara aren’t as close as they used to be, with Sara boarding at Hillerska this term. And Sara is preoccupied with both her secret romance and the pending sale of Rousseau. But Simon still tells her when he finds out it was August who leaked the video. And Sara tells August what Simon told her, expecting him to do the right thing. Is she naive for thinking that? Yes. But she’s also only 18 and in love.

Then August uses her information, not to confess his crime to the police “spontaneously” before Simon can turn him in. But instead to blackmail Simon with something or other (Sara doesn’t know the specifics) so Simon can’t turn him in. Sara must be doubting at this point whether she ever meant anything to August, or if he was just using her to keep her quiet about what she knew.

As it happens she’s wrong about that, but it’s not unreasonable for her to doubt August’s motives for pursuing her, given what she’s just found out about how he used the information she gave him. Note on the shooting range she says “Because I was in love with him.” Past tense. Not “Because I’m in love with him,” present tense.

Furthermore, when she tells the truth, partly because she fears Wilhelm will blow August’s head off, Simon is devastated. He trusted Sara, and she betrayed that trust. She betrayed it more than once, has had this information since December and got involved with August anyway. I don’t think it really hits Sara until this point just how badly she’s fucked up, or just how devastated Simon is.

He’s her little brother, he’s in pain, she wants to hurt the person who hurt him. But the person who hurt him is her. She did this to him. Sara is not a forgiving person, look at how she decisively cut Micke out of her life. She must be fearing that she’s ruined her relationship with her only sibling for the rest of her life, that he will never forgive her.

I personally think Simon will forgive Sara eventually. But Sara knows what it’s like to be betrayed by an immediate family member, and knows she will never forgive Micke. It’s not difficult to imagine Sara extrapolating from her own experience, and believing Simon will permanently cut her out of his life the way she has permanently cut their father out of her life.

So she’s hurt her only sibling very badly, and for what? For a guy who turned out to be a duplicitous asshole and used her tipoff to hurt her brother. Again.

And August thinks she’ll simmer down. Yeah, she walked away from him on the shooting range, but he approaches her the following morning confidently. He has an ace in the hole to get his girlfriend to stop flipping out: he’s bought Rousseau for her. August (again, an only child) assumes the gift of Rousseau will be sufficient recompense for deep-sixing Sara’s relationship with her brother.

It isn’t sufficient recompense, and August is taken aback when Sara refuses the magnificent gift. But August doesn’t understand the push-pull of sibling dynamics. That Sara is experiencing family loyalty at a very inconvenient time (from August’s point of view).

August’s father is dead, he’s clearly not close to his mother, and he hates his stepfather’s guts. And he has no siblings, nobody else who understands what it was like to grow up at Arnas with Carl Johan and Louise Horn as their parents.

He was pretty close to his second cousin Erik before Erik wrapped his Ferrrari around a tree. But it seems like that friendship didn’t really get close until a traumatized, recently bereaved 16 year old August showed up at Hillerska as a first year and Erik (then a third year) took August under his wing.

August and Erik knew each other all their lives, but they were only close for about 2 years. And given they first got close at 16 (August) and 18 (Erik), that’s not actually analogous to a sibling relationship. Erik was already old enough to drink and vote, and August only a few years off. That’s not spending your childhood together.

And we’ve seen how superficial August’s friendships with his two best friends at Hillerska are. In S1, August and Vincent trash talk Nils behind his back for being nouveau riche. In S2, given an opportunity, Vincent sells August out, and Nils helps Vincent do so. August does not have any siblings, nor any sibling-like relationships where mutual loyalty is crucial.

So August sees Sara sell Simon out in 1.06 and takes that at face value. He doesn’t realize that Sara is angry with Simon at that point, but will get over it. Because August doesn’t understand the messiness of sibling relationships. Or their importance.

I know adults who have cut siblings out of their lives because that sibling had hurt them so grievously they said enough. But I don’t know anyone who has cut a sibling out of their life without giving it serious thought beforehand. Even if they’re better off without that sibling in their life, it’s still a huge decision. Sometimes it’s a bigger decision than cutting a parent out of their life.

Matters are complicated somewhat by divorce, remarriage, half-siblings, step-siblings, etc. obviously. But generally speaking, if you spent a significant chunk of your childhood living in the same house as someone, the decision to cut them out of your life is a very serious one.

My best friend has two older half siblings she is not close to and has never been close to. But one is 20 years her senior and the other 18 years her senior. She is the only child of her father’s second marriage, and she acts like an only child. The combination of her father’s divorce from his first wife and the massive age gap means she has very few shared experiences with her half-siblings. Now, part of that is on her dad. But part of it is simply that both her half siblings are old enough they could be her parents themselves.

So yeah, August was raised as an only child. Even if it turns out Carl Johan fathered another child out of wedlock at some point, that hypothetical half-sibling didn’t grow up with Carl Johan. There might be curiosity, it might even lead to a bond eventually, but there won’t be the shared childhood experiences.

Whereas Sara and Simon are full siblings close in age. Furthermore, they grew up together, in a traumatic family situation with a father who was an addict (and possibly abusive to boot) and a mother who meant well but was struggling to cope. Even if Simon and Sara never reconnect, they will still always have those shared experiences of growing up as Micke and Linda Eriksson’s children.

So I really don’t think August saw Sara’s total disillusionment with him in 2.06 coming. Because August isn’t anyone’s brother and doesn’t really get it.

[itssmean]

love (tangled) threads | intro

synopsis decelis, where fate's threads remain unseen— park wonbin, gifted with the ability to see fate's unseen threads, attempts to matchmake hong y/n and song eunseok due to eunseok’s past relationship that does not end well. unaware of the twists awaiting them, they discover the true meaning of destiny and love. but what if wonbin's matchmaking efforts backfire? could it be that y/n is actually meant to be eunseok's true soulmate all along?

“So you've been saying that Eunseok hyung locked himself up during this whole weekend?” Sungchan nodded while Wonbin just gagged watching the door which belongs to Eunseok’s room.

“Well you should be grateful that he still ordered some food and still eats it clean, he just wants to be alone for now. Well, he said that he needs to gain more energy to meet people as class starts tomorrow.”

“Oh well, I’m coming here to ask both of you to join me for dinner. And I don’t care even a bit, he needs to come too.” Wonbin insisted and Sungchan just rolled his eyes unlocking Eunseok’s door to coax Eunseok to come with them for dinner. Luckily Eunseok feels good enough to come to join them.

After the chaotic day of the Love Alarm app release, there’s many outcomes that they've received from the other students, some may have gotten into relationships, (kudos to Anton and his girlfriend!) — some might be confused as many people are interested to them (Taesan might take some time to digest after many things happened on that day) and some might be unlucky, their relationship ends as the app reveals their true feelings towards that particular person— and you could say that Eunseok are one of the unlucky person.

“Denial is a river in Egypt!” You could say that there’s countless hints and obvious hatred that is coming from Eunseok’s cliques towards his now called ex-girlfriend. Not to mention Wonbin is the one who is known as their most obvious hater when they are in a relationship. Well how could he? His ability to see the others’ threads of fate didn’t help at all— or maybe it actually helps.

He is the one who encourages Seunghan to confess to his own girlfriend when his girl are suffering with the rare disease called ‘Hanahaki’. Without his help, Seunghan’s girlfriend might not be with him now— as she couldn’t move on with her crush that once rejected her. And Anton’s girlfriend might lose her one and only sister. What a butterfly effect it would be if he didn’t step up to encourage Seunghan. And that’s how he now determines to make sure his friends will meet their soulmate for sure!

But back to the current situation, he’s conflicted as he actually feels bad seeing his friend playing with his own food instead of actually eating it. Eunseok’s pinky that is bound with the red strings that only he can see remains untouched— like how it used to be even when he was still with his ex-girlfriend.

“Do you want me to set you up with someone?” Sungchan asked Eunseok. Sungchan's ill-timed offer to set Eunseok up earned him a sharp kick from Wonbin, who signaled, 'Have some tact—he just broke up!'

“It hurts you jerk!” Sungchan mouthed. Ignoring Sungchan’s grimace, Wonbin just rolled his eyes and continued eating his food. Eunseok just keeps on minding his own business, not interested to interfere with their own shenanigans.

Suddenly, Eunseok’s red strings tensed as it looked like someone tugged his strings towards them. It draws Wonbin’s attention as he furrowed his eyebrows and he traced the strings that are connected with Eunseok.

“Hey, Seunghan and his sister are here. Hey Y/N!” Sungchan waved enthusiastically and smiled brightly towards the siblings that were approaching them. Now why are the threads connected between Eunseok and Y/N.. and it was tangled?

"I think I know who we should set Eunseok up with," Wonbin mused, ignoring Sungchan's scepticism. “Don’t you just disagree with me just now about that?”

As Eunseok's gaze lingered on Y/N, Wonbin couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps, she was the one they had been looking for all along.

next.

an | new series dropped! i hope everyone will looking forward to it 😭😭 to avoid confusion please read love (beta) tester first ! and for the profile intro.. let’s just say it is the same as the previous series!

taglist is open!

[itsmebytch001]

Sunday Afternoon...

Aaron could see the defeated look in your eyes as Diana turned the corner by the Deli to drop you back off, you looked tired, your hair ruffed up and your red puffy eyes were enough, and it caused him so much grife knowing that what ever happened over the past two days he had allowed, sure it was technically out of his hands, the courts had given him an order to lend you to your Mom Friday through too Sunday and he wasn't egotistical enough to think he could simply go against it but oh how he wanted too...

Sometimes when you were all alone at Diana's with no way to contact him if anything went wrong he would sit alone in the living room once the house had been cleaned into oblivion and think about what he could be doing with you, take you to the Zoo, take you to get your hair done, help you with your homework over the whole weekend instead of having to cram every Monday morning, but instead he would have to take you from school, back home for a bit to pack your bag, make sure you ate something good and then take the dreaded walk to the Deli down on 11th street and simply let you go, reminding you he loved you before he waved you off, being pushed to do so by a unforeseen force.

Diana wordlessly drops you again by the entrance and leaves immediately, Aaron crouched to your level and saw how sunken your eyes were, and that you were holding a Bratz still in its packaging.

Must have been a rough one, he thought.

Aaron: "Come one Baby lets go"

He takes your hand and begins to walk the street with you loosely holding his hand, he takes the Bratz doll from you and hold's it in his other, your silent the whole way home starring out into the distance.

And once you did get home Aaron watched you dump your bag onto the floor and enter your room, flop onto your bed and almost instantly fall asleep. He watches you for several minutes to ensure your really asleep before sitting back on the couch tensely holding The Bratz Doll in one hand.

He wanted to throw it out the damm window.

And it was to him was Diana's way of remotely silencing you with expensive items, all the doll's she brought you were never played with, they were simply shuttled away under the bed still in packaging, there were now including this one 14 doll's just sitting there collecting dust, and this was to be added to the collection. Sure you didn't have any visible marks but it was rare she actually hit you, it was mostly the screaming, the hysterical crying and laughing, yelling again and again the same Arabic phrase at you expecting you to understand despite never having had tried to speak or teach you it and it was killing your childhood, having to deal with a mad woman every weekend. And it wasn't like you ever told him about any of these things, you only ever told Auntie Rio, or 'Tita' he wasn't sure if it was because she was a woman, or that she was more motherly but she was the only family member who could bribe you into informing her what had went down, so he as he did many Sunday afternoon's called her...

Calling Rio Morales...

Ring

Rio: "Hello?"

Aaron: "Hey Rio, uh...I know It's Sunday and it's late but...is there any chance you can come talk to Y/n?"

Rio: "Aaron...It's 17:45, I can't just up and go at this time"

Aaron: "There's a doll, she came back with another I just want to make sure she don't have any marks on her"

There was a long exhale on the other side of the phone

Rio: "I can't come this weekend, I'm with my family right now, but I'll come see her Monday M'kay?"

Aaron: "Yeah okay" He huffed

Call ended.

He looked back at you sprawled across your bed still in your winter clothes clicked off his phone, and he too retired to his room and collapsed onto his bed.

It was later in the night Aaron could hear the faint sound of the TV playing, and muttering. He emerged from his bed and peered round the corner to see you sitting, still in your day clothes watching something with the volume so low, while aligning a row of dolls to watch along with you.

Aaron: "Y/n?"

Y/n: "Oh, hi"

Aaron: "What are you doing up so late? You got school tmorrow"

Y/n: "I know..." You look over to the new Bratz doll stuffed away in thee corner.

Aaron: "You wanna talk about it?" He sat down next to you while the TV continued to play.

Y/n: "Nothing happened"

Aaron almost rolled his eyes at such a statement, something had happened you just wanted to silently strop out it.

Aaron: "...Did she hit you?"

Y/n: "Nothing happened"

Aaron: "Did Phil hit you?"

Y/n: "Nothing happened"

Aaron: "She break something of yours?" He's getting warm he can feel it.

Y/n: "NOTHING HAPPENED!" You yelled before stomping off back towards your room.

Aaron: "Ay, Don't yell at me!" He stood and watched you toddle off back to your room.

Aaron: "You better come sit yourself back on this sofa!" You slam the door in his face.

Aaron: "Oh OH you wanna do this now!? Your 9 years old already slamming doors in my face?!" Striding across the hall he forced opened the door with ease to find you sat on your bed.

Aaron: "Acting like a damm teenager, come on" He grabbed your arm and pulled you out and back into the living room while you dropped your weight dragging you across the floor boards.

Aaron: "Use your legs dammit" he continued to drag you across the floor before pulling you up onto the sofa and sitting you next to him, while still holding your forearm to avoid you making a run for it.

Aaron: "you just walk off mid conversation and slam a door in my face?, and-" You tried again to push him off your arm and pull away in order to return to your room. Aaron: "Sit you ass back down" He shoved you back into soft leather.

Aaron: "The hell is going with you?"

...

Aaron: "I asked you a question Y/n answer me" He said sternly.

He looked around the room as in looking for someone, then back at you.

Aaron: "Are you serious right now? You wanna slam a door in my face then go mute on me?"

...

Aaron:" Fine then, we just gonna sit here in silence until you say something" Was this petty? yes.

And so both you and your Dad sat in a horrible echo of silence for maybe 5 minutes while he iced you out in his own stare while tapping on the sofa.

Y/n: "I'm sorry" You whisper.

Aaron: "What was that?"

Y/n: "I'm sorry"

Aaron: "Umhum, so you gonna tell me why you slammed that door in my face?"

Y/n: "Because I was upset at you"

Aaron: "Yeah yeah I know that, but why you acting up so damm much all of a sudden?"

Y/n: "...I don't know"

Aaron: "Is it maybe something to do with your Mom?"

Y/n: "...no"

Aaron: "was it her boyfriend?"

....

Aaron: "So it was the boyfriend huh? Did he hit you? Cuz if he did I told Diana I would drag her ass back to court an-"

Y/n: "He didn't hit me, he just...got really loud"

Aaron: "What do you mean loud?"

Y/n: "I-I" He saw you looking over again at the Bratz doll.

Aaron: "Don't look at that, look at me" He turned your head to face him.

Aaron: "What do you mean loud?"

Y/n: "He...I was talking too much and he was mad so he got in my face and was yelling and pushing me a bit putting his finger in my face and when I got mad he sent me into my room and left me there"

Aaron: "What do you mean 'left you there'?"

Y/n: "The door was locked and I was left there for most of Saturday"

Aaron: "When did they let you out?"

Y/n: "Phil eventually let me out once I banged on the door for awhile and told him I needed to pee"

Aaron crossed his face with his hands, it upset him how casually you took it that you had been trapped for hours in a room all alone and that he, if he hadn't forced it out of you would have never known.

Aaron: "Dose Diana know?"

Y/n: "Yeah she knew, she was there"

He exhaled massively, lightly pulling you closer to him into a loose hug.

Aaron: "I'm sorry that I dragged you"

Y/n: "m'kay"

Aaron: "If you like, you don't gotta go to school tmorrow, we could just stay for Monday"

Y/n: "Do I still have to do my homework?"

Aaron giggled.

Aaron: "Yeah baby you still gotta keep up with homework but we won't have rush it like we always do"

Y/n: "M'kay"

Aaron: "Now lets get you to sleep now yeah?"

Y/n: "Yeah..."

Aaron pick you and hoists you into the hair carries you into your bedroom and plops you into your bed and pulls the blanket over your chest.

Aaron: "Don't let me catch you up again, yeah?"

Y/n: "M'kay, Night Pa"

Aaron: "Goodnight Y/n"

He softly closes the door and again stumbles back into his bedroom to finally sleep.

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