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shibaraki · 3 years

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THERES ONLY YOU ┊ MIYA OSAMU

tags: GN reader, childhood enemies to lovers, idiots in love, miya atsumu has had enough of yer bullshit, best friend atsumu, suggestive themes

wc: 1.5k

Ever since you were young you and Osamu had been in a weird love-hate relationship. It had all started the afternoon you declared Atsumu to be your favourite twin. Even then Osamu had simply shrugged with his face neutral, exercising great control for a 9 year old, but it obviously got to him because he spent the next 14 years teasing you. As children it had begun with the typical stuff; hair pulling, hiding your favourite pens and stickers, stealing food from your bento when you weren’t looking, jumping out at you from around corners. Into adolescence he stopped the physical irritants and turned to relentless bickering and insults that carefully never crossed the line.

You weren’t sure at what point that your feelings of annoyance toward him changed to feelings of wanting, but it was overwhelming how drawn to him you were.

“Could you two jus’ hurry up and fuck?” Atsumu huffs as he observes you, leaning back in his seat across from you. You snort at his vulgarity, cheek resting against your propped up hand. “I’m trying,” you mutter solemnly.

He bites into his onigiri with a raised eyebrow that reads ‘are you serious?’ and you poke out your tongue petulantly in response.

“Starin' holes into his back is not trying,” he smirks. “Yer such a coward”. Leaning over the restaurant table you lightly smack him upside his head to shut him up, but you knew he was right.

Osamu has always been pretty observant and aware of those around him, or at least you always thought he was. Perhaps his volleyball skills did not translate to real life interactions with other people. Because you had been very obviously flirting with him since you got here and he hasn’t cracked once.

Maybe he noticed and doesn’t reciprocate so he’s not acknowledging it. Maybe he noticed but he’s teasing you. Maybe he really is dense.

Surely not, you think, as he rolls his work sleeves up his thick forearms. No. This is definitely on purpose.

“Do ya blame me? He barely even tolerates me,” you mumble, picking at the rice ball in your hand. Even now as adults your relationship with Osamu hadn’t evolved much, he still took pleasure in winding you up and poking fun at you and you never really spent time alone with him without his brother present. There truly was no indication that he reciprocated you romantic feelings.

“Why do you think he puts so much effort in to gettin’ a reaction out of ya?” Atsumu muses, genuinely curious of your answer. In his mind you were both as blind as the other, and frankly he was getting sick of having to sit back and watch the two of you dance around each other.

Gaze unmoving you watch another customer come in and press their chest up against the front counter, batting their eyelashes at the attractive young restaurant owner. When it's anyone but you he's obviously aware when he's being flirted with.

Atsumu clicks his fingers in front of your face after a few moments of you ignoring his question, startling you. "Oi, would ya stop starin' and listen to me? He's not going anywhere you know, he works here".

Narrowing your eyes you slump back into your side of the booth with reluctance, anxious about what was going on on the other side of the room. "Fine, am listening," you tut, tongue clicking against your teeth.

"Just hear me out, and a know you might think it's ridiculous but it's the truth," Atsumu declares, crossing his arms together in a theatrical show of 'seriousness'. You mentally prepare yourself.

"Osamu is jealous," he hypothesises. "He is jealous of me".

"You're right," you scoff, shovelling the rest of your food in to your mouth, "that is ridiculous". Your best friend rolls his eyes so hard in response his head hits the back of his chair.

"He's jealous because I get all yer attention and the only way he'll ever have it is if he messes with ya," Atsumu explains with a proud expression, as if he had cracked a nuclear code. "Now because you've both been at it so long he has no clue how to pursue an actual relationship wit' ya' so he just sticks to what's familiar".

“Since when were you an expert in psychology?” You ask mockingly, too scared to take his analysis as truth. If he was wrong and Osamu truly didn’t like you then confessing to him would only lead to an incredibly uncomfortable situation for all three of you.

“Whatever,” Tsumu huffs, licking the flavour from each of his fingers after finishing his final onigiri. “If ya don’t believe me then I think ya should just ask him if he really dislikes you. Cause I know you’ve never hated him even when we were kids but still, ya provoked him”.

Mouth agape, you watch him rise from where he’s sitting and pull on his jacket. “W-where are ya going?”

He pushes down on your shoulders when you try to stand. “I’m going home because I’ve got early practice tomorrow. You are gonna stay here and sort yer shit out because frankly it’s disturbin’ having to watch ya eye fuck ma brother every time we come here-“

“It’s not every time!”

"It's definitely every time," he reaffirms impatiently. He takes in your anxious expression and sighs, running a hand through his dyed platinum hair.

“Look, yer one of my favourite people. Do ya really think that I’d leave ya here and encourage ya to do this if I knew he’d just reject ya?”

You shake your head no. You know that underneath his sarcastic hard headed exterior, Atsumu is an overwhelmingly caring and attentive person. You trusted him with anything and everything and you knew deep down that he wouldn’t put you in a situation that would leave you hurt.

Even if Osamu did reject you, Atsumu was atleast certain that his brother did not hate you and you could live with that.

Your best friend leaves you with a light flick to the forehead and calls out to his brother that he’s going home. Exhaling shakily you scan the room and study the few people left sitting at their tables. It was very nearly time for Osamu to close up.

You fiddle uncomfortably with your remaining onigiri, debating whether or not you should just make a run for it. Even if you were to let this discussion happen you weren’t sure that you wanted it to happen here.

Amid the quiet atmosphere of onigiri miya you sit internally scrutinising any and all of the interactions you’d had with Osamu, the ones you could remember anyway. Truthfully you never did detect any kind of malice from the dark haired twin, and he had never said anything sincerely hurtful to you. Maybe Atsumu was right.

You jump when a familiar hand comes in to view, placing another 'giri in your dish. Peaking up at Osamu you find yourself glaring suspiciously out of habit, wondering what his motives were behind his actions.

He snorts a laugh at your familiar expression, black work cap covering his eyes. “Ya know, sometimes I just want to be generous without any evil hidden agenda,” he teases.

Typically you would send an equally sarcastic comment back to him but today your best friends words bounce around your mind vigorously, attempting to attach to anything Osamu says as proof that it’s true.

“I’ll see it when I believe it,” he suddenly mocks, imitating your voice. You stare at him, affronted.

“Sorry but I’m a bit weirded out by yer lack of response so I’m just filling in the gaps here,” he jokes as he pulls out the seat next to you.

Taking in his tired appearance, you recall the day you’d admitted to Atsumu that you had feelings for his brother. Straight away he had asked if you also found him attractive, to his relief your immediate answer was no, but that was still something many people wondered after you told them.

The truth is, to you Osamu and Atsumu look completely different. A persons outward appearance isn’t the only thing that makes them, well, themselves. Osamu and Atsumu may have the same face, minus the current hair colour, but they have complete opposite mannerisms, senses of humour, facial expressions, body language, voices, likes and dislikes. It’s all of those things that add up and create an attraction to someone.

You loved Atsumu as a brother but you had not once found yourself attracted to him the way you were attracted to 'Samu.

“Ya in there? Do I have to be worried?” 'Samu pulls you back to reality, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger. Blinking into focus you bat his hand away and pout, plucking the new warm onigiri from your plate and taking a bite.

To your surprise it is your favourite flavour, and freshly made. Usually Samu’ stuck to his menu pretty strictly and this was not on there, which meant he had made it for you specifically.

‘Is’ good,” you say, words muffled by the food in your mouth. Osamu gives a small grin in response, tilting his head forward to hide his expression with the tongue of his cap.

“And, m’alright. Thanks for asking. Just got a bit lost in my head there,” you admit shyly, hoping he’ll look you in the eye so you can see what he might truly be trying to tell you. He doesn't.

“Was surprised that you were still here, thought you’d leave with ma brother”.

“Nah, he scurried off somewhere with an excuse about practice but am pretty sure he’s seeing someone new,” you share. He shoots you a curious, but cautious expression.

“Doesn’t that bother ya? Since ya like him and all,” he stammers, appearing to be very weary of your reaction. As if he’s truly expecting you to be upset.

He was not ready for you to burst into fits of laughter.

“Jesus, no, ‘Samu. Sure he’s got a pretty face but I don’t like ya brother, not in a million years. He’s told me far too much about his bowel movements and his sexual fantasies for that to ever happen,” you snivel, voice trailing off into a quiet giggle.

Once he’s processed the realisation that this entire time you haven’t actually been pining for his brother, he latches on to the first part of your statement. “Ya think I’ve got a pretty face huh?”

Not even bothering to deny it, still amused by the fact that he’d had entirely the wrong idea this whole time, you simply hum in agreement. “Might just be one of the only things ya have going for ya, ‘Samu”.

The teasing was familiar ground and thus it relieves the tension in his shoulders slightly. “So a man with a pretty face, his own business and good cooking skills isn’t enough for ya?”

You might be starting to understand where ‘Tsumu was coming from when he complained about you and ‘Samu flirting. Restaurant now void of customers it was just the two of you, testing the waters and scrutinising each other’s reactions.

“Does this dream man also happen to be 6’3?” You ask dryly, eyes widening when a pink stripe paints itself across Osamus cheeks.

A few moments of silence pass.

“Why’d ya pick him as ya favourite?” He finally probes, dodging your question.

“Oh my god,” you groan, “you’re still holding that over me?”

“Ain’t nice to pick and choose favourites,” he taunts. “I’m just curious”.

“I guess it’s because you tried too hard ta’ be nice,” you explain with a small shrug, wringing your hands together. “You were known as the better twin, the friendly twin, but I saw right through ya. Ya were always instigating fights, startin’ trouble, breaking stuff, an’ poor Tsumu took the fall for ya every time. Sure he was an ass and still is but at least he was honest about it. Guess I wanted to provoke you in to showing your true colours”.

“An I proved ya right by continuing to be an ass for over a decade,” he chuckles self depreciatively, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You frown, knocking your shoulders together playfully. “Ya weren’t that bad. It was fun, wasn’t it?”

His eyes glint and narrow under the helpless grin that spreads across his face. “Yeah,” he murmurs under his breath as he gazes down at you with such fondness it makes your chest tight. “It was”.

The air seems thinner after that, and you can’t look away from each other. Nervously you wet your bottom lip and watch him follow the movement of your tongue. You remember what you’d promised Atsumu.

“Did you ever actually hate me, ‘Samu?”

Inching closer to you he cautiously cups his hand against your jaw, pleased when you don’t flinch away from him. His fingers delicately graze the apple of your cheek.

“S’impossible to hate you,” he admits earnestly. “Just wanted ya to look at me more, is all”.

“You’re an idiot,” you breathe, overwhelmed by the warmth radiating from him and the smell of his cologne washing over you. In quiet amazement he glides his thumb along your bottom lip, inhaling sharply when your mouth falls open. Slowly he leans toward you, eyes half lidded in want.

“Excuse me, are you still open?”

You jolt away from each other abruptly at the sudden intrusion, turning to see a couple standing sheepishly at the entrance. Osamu, to your disappointment, gets to his feet and approaches them to bow politely.

“Sorry to tell ya but we closed about five minutes ago. My fault, I shoulda put the sign up”.

The two look so embarrassed to have walked in on your intimate moment, and even from this distance you can see that Osamus ears have taken on a bright red hue. Covering the sound of your laughter with your hands, not wanting to humiliate anyone any further, you watch as they scurry out and ‘Samu quickly locks the door behind them.

“Can hear ya laughing over there!” He growls, flipping the switch for the shutters to come down. Thankfully the loud harsh metal sound covers your spluttering.

He approaches you again, this time with a bashful expression and his hand open for you to take, “come on, I’ll drive ya home”.

Accepting his offer you push your fingers into the spaces between his own and press your palms together. You guess you’ll have to kiss him when he walks you to your door.

#this was so fun to write omgggg #im so sorry tsumu im in love with ur brother lo #miya osamu x reader

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sluttywonwoo · 3 years

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the bet || j.ww x reader

Summary: you help your boyfriend’s best friend win a bet against your better judgement

Warnings: swearing, lil bit of jealousy, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

“Hey, can I ask a huge favor?”

You hoisted yourself up from your beach towel onto your elbows and pulled down your sunglasses to glare at the boy in front of you. You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. What could Kim Mingyu possibly want from you?

“What is it?”

He ran a hand through his still-wet hair awkwardly. “Um, the boys and I are about to play a game of volleyball, and we’ve bet some money on it…”

“Okay?”

“And, well, it’s me and Hansol against Wonwoo, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan. Wonwoo’s their best player and I was wondering if you could distract him? So that we have a better chance of winning?”

“Distract him… how?” you asked, not fully understanding.

“You know… whatever it is you do that drives Wonwoo crazy. He’s your boyfriend, I’m sure you know how to wind him up.”

“You mean you want me to get him hard during your game?”

Mingyu nearly choked at that. “Um, I mean pretty much, yeah. Just do something that will throw him off his game.”

“So you want me to help you guys cheat?”

“It’s not technically cheating.”

“I think your definition of cheating is much looser than mine.”

“So is that a no?” he asked.

You thought about it for a second. “Is there anything in it for me?”

“We’ll give you a cut of the winnings.”

You found yourself grinning. “How much did you guys bet?”

“Two hundred if they win, three hundred if we win. Basically whoever’s on the losing team has to cough up a hundred bucks.”

“Jeez, I can’t believe Wonwoo is risking that much on a stupid game.”

“Are you upset?”

“No, it’s his money he can do whatever he wants with it. I just think he’s a dumbass.”

“Not arguing with that.”

“Do you need me to remind you that you’re betting the same amount?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “So you’ll do it? For a hundred?”

“Yeah, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Pleasure doing business.” Mingyu smirked and held out his hand for you to shake. You rolled your eyes at the formality but shook his hand anyway, just as Wonwoo came up to the both of you and clapped Mingyu on the shoulder.

“What are my best mate and my best girl talking about?” he asked, leaning down to kiss you.

“I wanted to go swimming, but Mingyu said you guys are about to play volleyball?” You piped up before Mingyu could say anything. Maybe you should’ve felt guiltier than you did about lying to your boyfriend and for what you were about to do, but hey, a hundred dollars was a hundred dollars . And if everything went according to plan, you’d be getting some good dick too. A win win.

Wonwoo frowned a little bit. “Oh yeah, sorry. Wanna play, love?” he offered. “There’s still some room on Mingyu’s team.”

You made a face. “What about your team? Can’t you make one of your other team members switch?”

He winced. “I love you, y/n, but you’re shit at sports.”

Any trace of remorse left over what you’d agreed to do dissolved in that moment. He fucking deserved what he was about to get.

“The stupid game is that important to you? Asshole,” you scoffed, and put your sunglasses back on before laying back down on the towel.

“Y/n,” Wonwoo whined, and crouched down next to you. “I-”

“Go play your fucking game.”

He stood back up, but lingered for a moment. You could tell he felt bad, but you weren’t having it. “Wanna go swimming after?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Sure, whatever.”

You could tell he’d walked away when the shadow over you disappeared. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you were a little pissed about the comment he’d made. Were you shit at sports? Yes, definitely, but could he have at least pretended to love you enough to be on the same team as you? Also yes. He should’ve known you were going to say no anyway.

While you were still fuming you hadn’t even realized the boys had started the game. Not even a minute in and you were already slacking on your end of the bet. You propped yourself back up for a moment to watch. You could see why Mingyu had asked for your help. Wonwoo and his team were dominating so far, and you couldn’t help but admire how fit your boyfriend looked as he served the ball to the other side of the court. You licked your lips absentmindedly, ready to pull him back to the car right fucking then.

You forced yourself to stop watching the game stood up from your towel, brushed yourself off, and began walking towards the water. You made sure to pull your bikini bottoms as far up your ass as you could in the process just to get Wonwoo’s attention as you walked past the volleyball net. Sure, you’d agreed to go swimming with him after the match, but you’d never promised to wait for him.

As you made your way down to the shore, you noted that not only Wonwoo’s head turned to watch you walk, but all five of the boys cast their attention away from the game and towards you. You glanced behind your shoulder for a second, and caught Mingyu’s smirk. He took advantage of Wonwoo’s lapse in concentration to spike the ball back over to their side and score a point.

You heard some yelling and protestation, but pretended to ignore it and continued to wade into the water.

It was warmer than you thought it would be, and deeper. There was a steep drop a few feet in that you might have tripped over if you weren’t careful. You only ended up staying in the ocean for a few minutes; Wonwoo couldn’t really get distracted by you if your whole body was submerged underwater. You weren’t there to swim around anyway, just to get your bathing suit wet so it would stick to your body.

You’d worn one that didn’t have pads in it so you knew that once you got out of the water the whole beach would be able to see your nipples poking through the fabric. You didn’t have a problem with that. Wonwoo might.

While you were down there you got your hair wet too, just for good measure. Might as well pull out all the stops since a hundred dollars were on the line.

You weren’t sure what the score was by the time you made your way back up to your towel, but you didn’t make an effort to ask. What you did know, though, was that Wonwoo was getting frustrated. Even from where you were you could see that his jaw was clenched and his brows were furrowed.

The opposing team seemed to be doing just fine though, and you stopped to watch them high-five each other after Mingyu scored another point by slamming the ball over the net onto Wonwoo side of the court.

“Damn, nice one, Gyu!” you called out from where you were standing, giving him a big smile and thumbs up. It was sort of dorky, not to mention a cheap shot, but if you knew Wonwoo as well as you thought you did, it’d be the perfect thing to rile him up.

“Thanks, y/n!” he shouted back and winked, ignoring the weird look Hansol gave him. “It’s about time you started rooting for the winning team!”

You struggled not to laugh when you looked back over to the other side of the court and saw all three boys scowling at Mingyu. You didn’t even know why he needed you in the first place, he knew how to push their buttons so well already.

Wonwoo’s fists were clenched now, and he looked this close to tackling his best friend to the ground. The two of you weren’t even flirting with each other, not really, but Wonwoo was the most competitive person you knew and it wasn’t always the best color on him. For you to be cheering for the team that he’s not on, and for that team to be winning- there was no doubt in your mind that he was royally pissed. Not to mention, that you just so happened to be cheering for his attractive best friend who may or may not have mentioned having sex dreams about you once or twice in passing.

It was good, but it wasn’t enough. Soonyoung made some offhand comment about how close the scores were so you knew you needed to keep going. You turned your attention away from the game again and lowered yourself down on your stomach on top of your towel and casually undid the strings of your bikini top to “sunbathe”.

If anyone asked it was so you didn’t get tan lines on your back, it was something that a lot of women did. In reality, however, you didn’t give a shit about tan lines, you just wanted to see how Wonwoo would react.

You pulled out your book to read while you tanned, tuning back into the game every once and a while to see how it was going. You could hear Soonyoung and Seungkwan yelling at Wonwoo to ‘pay attention’ or ‘snap the fuck out of it’ and smiled to yourself, excited for what was to come.

After several more minutes, your bathing suit was almost dry and you were starting to fall asleep on your towel. The volleyball game was taking way longer than you anticipated and you just wanted Mingyu and Hansol to win already. You didn’t have any other ideas to distract your boyfriend so you hoped they could pull it off.

Then, what you would call a fucking miracle happened. You were still nearly dozing off on top of your book when a pink Frisbee landed on the sand right in front of your face.

“Sorry about that!” called the voice of its owner and you squinted to see him jogging over to you. A few of his friends weren’t far behind and they all congregated in a little group in front of your towel. They looked to be about your age, maybe a little older. “Sorry to wake you up,” the ringleader apologized again, but smiled like he wasn’t really that sorry.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, one hand holding your loose bikini to your chest, while the other handed the Frisbee back to smiling guy. “No worries, I didn’t mean to fall asleep anyway.”

“What’s your name?” Ringleader asked. “I’m Jeonghan, and these are some of my fraternity brothers.”

Of course. You should’ve guessed. They were all jacked, tan, and had an air of privilege about them that you couldn’t miss. They were objectively cute, sure, but nothing in comparison to your boyfriend playing volleyball behind you. Not to mention their pack mentality freaked you out a little.

“I’m y/n,” you said and held your free hand out to them to shake, still keeping your other hand on your bikini top so you wouldn’t flash them. “Are you guys on a holiday break or something?”

“Yeah, just trying to make the most out of our last few days.”

“You from around here?” another boy asked, not being subtle at all in the way he was eyeing you.

“No, we just took a little day trip,” you explained and cleared your throat, wondering how long they’d stick around and when Wonwoo was going to come over and dick you down out of jealousy.

“We?” Ringlea- Jeonghan asked, cocking his head to the side. “Are you here with your friends?”

“Her boyfriend, actually,” Wonwoo piped up calmly from behind you. You looked back and saw him standing a few feet behind your towel with his arms crossed. He could be annoying, but fuck if he didn’t have good timing.

“Oh-uh, well I was nice to meet you.” Jeonghan mumbled abruptly and nodded to his friends to get back to their Frisbee game. They were gone before you could even say goodbye back.

“Attracting all sorts of attention today, aren’t you, love?” Wonwoo sneered and knelt down beside you.

His words went straight to the heat between your legs and you turned over onto your back to get a better look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, daring him to challenge you.

“I think you do, y/n,” he continued. The way he whispered your name sent a shiver down your spine. “I mean, you’re practically naked in front of the whole beach right now.”

“I’m wearing a swimsuit.”

“You know what I mean. And all for what? To make me jealous? So I’d fuck you? Because you could’ve just asked, baby.”

You whimpered, but didn’t say anything and leaned up to kiss him, desperately wanting to feel his lips against yours. He leaned in too, but stopped just short of your mouth, pulling back a bit to look into your eyes. “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice.”

You moaned softly, wanting nothing more than for him to do exactly that. You weren’t even sure if you could wait to get home at this point, you wanted him inside of you now. He put a hand on each knee and spread your legs apart, whistling in awe at the wet spot on your bathing suit. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment. “I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet.”

“All because of you,” you panted, reaching out for him, but he pulled back.

“You know all of your teasing made me lose the game, right? I couldn’t focus because I was so distracted.” You nodded. “I was so fucking hard the whole match because of what you were doing”

And then your dumbass had to open your big mouth. “So Mingyu told you?”

Wonwoo pulled back, and gave you a confused look, clearly caught off guard. “Told me what?”

“Y/n, that was incredible, you were perfect!” Mingyu exclaimed as he ran up to you and Wonwoo, holding out a hundred dollar bill to you.

You winced as you took it, wishing you hadn’t said anything.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” Wonwoo demanded, even more frustrated than he had been a minute ago. “What were you incredible at?”

“Fucking distracting you, dude. I asked her if she’d be in on the bet with me for a cut of the winnings since you guys had more team members.”

Your boyfriend glared at you. “Is that true?”

“I mean, it’s just a game… and I thought it’d be fun,” you said quietly.

“That’s what you guys were talking about earlier, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, she didn’t need any convincing she was totally down-”

“Mingyu,” you interrupted, pinching the bridge of your nose, “please, if you have any mercy for my pussy please shut the fuck up.”

His face went scarlet and he shut his mouth without further comment.

“So that’s it?” Wonwoo asked, obviously not ready to drop the subject yet. “You’re just gonna sell out your own boyfriend that easy?”

“You said you didn’t want to be on a team with me!”

“Don’t turn this around on me! You’re the one who helped them cheat!”

“Oh I don’t know if I’d call it cheating,” Mingyu interjected again.

“Shut up, Mingyu!” you and Wonwoo both shouted.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Mingyu said quietly. “If I had known it was going to be this big of a deal I wouldn’t have asked her. I just thought I was being clever, that it’d be a fun way to beat you guys, but I’m sorry I went too far.”

Wonwoo sighed and ran a hand through his wet curls. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“So… we’re good?” Mingyu asked, holding out a hand to help Wonwoo up.

“Yeah, we’re good. Next time, though, we’re playing fair.”

“Deal.”

“Y/n, you still want to go swimming, love?” Wonwoo asked, turning back to you.

“We’re not- we’re not going home?” Despite everything you were still incredibly horny, and you’d been patiently waiting for Wonwoo to rail you for what felt like hours now.

“Not yet,” he said and helped you to your feet. “Let’s make the most of our beach day.”

“I think the rest of us are going to find an ice cream shop,” Mingyu added. “Winners are buying. Do either of you want anything?”

“No thanks, we’ll hang out here by ourselves for a while.” Wonwoo answered for the both of you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist as you walked down to the water together and you relaxed, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin on yours. Only once you were out of Mingyu’s earshot did he lean down and whisper “your ass is going to be seven shades of red for that little stunt once we get home,” in your ear. Now it was your turn to be distracted.

lmk what you thought; i always appreciate feedback)

wonwoo tags: @wonw00t

shoot me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist

#the bet #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonu x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut

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marvel-m-lee · 3 years

Note

Here's a prompt: Camilo was tickled very often by Pepa and Felix but as he grew up he thought it was embarrassing (teenagers... deep down he still liked) so as teen he refused to admit he was even ticklish until his parents decides to give him a sweet tickle attack. sorry about my english :/

Are you t!cklish? No- that's childish-

Words:4472

Fandom: encanto

Summary: *prompt* Camilo thinks being t!cklish is childish and enjoying it it even wirse- his parents show him otherwise though...

Warnings: angst-t!ckling, the tword has also been banned so I censor it now x

A/N: HELLO. I've been sick all day with a headache and this was the only thing keeping me going- I wrote another one like this too but with Mira and Bruno, so hmu if yall wanna see it??

Also this is MUCH longer than expected- like way longer- but I love it so much 🥲

Also your English is great! I don't believe you mare any mistakes in the prompt! <33 hopefully you emjoy this or its at least similar to the idea haha :D

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It was a normal day in the Encanto, Camilo was going round, making everyone smile, laugh, and teasing his family, winding his siblings and cousins up the wall as per usual.

Everything was great... until just around tea time.

Camilo was the playful cousin. That was it. He was followed up by Mirabel and recently Isabela in his antics, no matter how childish or silly they seem, as long as they made his family and village happy and brought a smile to someone's face, he didn't care. Though there was one thing Camilo tried to stay away from-

T!ckling.

Why you may be asking? Well, when Camilo was younger, he would love the activity; it wouldn't be rare to hear a squealing Camilo somewhere in the house. He would usually go round and cause mischief, earning him the said t!ckles, and go round in that circle. Many of the adults had realized the boy enjoyed the activity so they would find any way to get him, give it a ball left outside or a sock on the floor, they would give the boy any reason to be wrecked into a giggly puddle on the floor.

Camilo would love every bit of it. Then his tio Bruno left... After that, he was still t!ckled sure, but it became rare enough that by the age of 10 and his younger brother Antonio being born, he never received any t!ckles, unless it was from his elder sister or Isabela- even so, it would only be a poke to the side at most.

By the age of 15 though, Camilo still seemed to enjoy the activity. Some days he'd just wake up, craving t!ckles for no exact reason other than waking up! It's like this secret joy taunted him because deep down, he also thought everyone had stopped because it was childish. If they knew he enjoyed it, why would they stop? He could never think of any other reason other than how everyone must have looked down upon him or how it was childish and embarrassing.

So he buried it deep inside him, whenever the activity arose he would always try to stay away or avoid it somehow, and if the dreaded question ever came up he would shrug and say no, then leave, not being able to stand a minute more in case he would be looked down upon again.

He wanted to make people smile. Not think he was a little kid.

It all came tumbling down right before dinner. Camilo was walking to his room after coming back from the town. He'd seen some kids a bit younger than him running around and chasing each other, then tag teaming and t!ckling one of them to the ground. That scene sent Camilo into a whole other mood and he needed to calm down in his room.

On the way, though, he bumped into his tio Bruno and Mirabel. The two were chatting about something and Camilo was so focused up in his mind that they all walked into each other.

"Woah, hey Camilo!" Mirabel said, smiling at her primo who seemed to be in a weird daze after the bump.

"h-hey? Hey Mirabel, Hey Tio Bruno" The chameleon didn't make eye contact but he still said hello, trying to not act suspicious or too weird, even though he couldn't help it.

"You okay Camilo?" Bruno asked, realising the boy seemed to be a little out of it. Camilo shook his head, as though trying to rid the thoughts that threatened his mind.

"hmm? Yeah- no, yeah. You okay Bruno?"

Bruno tilted his head a little, both he and Mirabel sensing something was up but not wanting to upset him further. "Yeah... if anythings wrong, you can talk to us" Bruno explained, smiling a little at his nephew. Mirabel nodded agreeing with Bruno.

Camilo still made no attempt at eye contact, knowing his face would flush the minute he did. He just nodded and rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Yep... Thanks Tio, Thanks Prima- can i- Can I just get through please?" Camilo asked, jestering to his room.

Bruno turned around to see where Camilo had pointed, "Oh! yeah! sorry Camilo, here" Bruno span back around and turned slightly so the boy could walk between Mirabel and he.

"Thahanks- AH" Camilo couldn't help but laugh nervously as he walked through, then feeling a poke at his side from his prima to get a smile on his face. Camilo jumped back and blushed, covering his mouth from the yell he'd given out.

"Uh...? Are you okay Camilo?" Bruno asked, looking at the boy who was horrific looking at a grinning Mirabel. Camilo quickly shook his head between the two, then avoided looking at them all together and tried to compose himself, shaking his head.

"Uh- Yeah! Yeah, Its fine-"

"T!cklish~" Mirabel wiggled some finger at him, making him roll his eyes and try to hide a whine as he began to hate the situation.

"noho- no." Camilo couldn't help the quick response or the nervous giggle within it.

Bruno looked surprisingly between the two and smiled at his nephew, quickly remembering how when he was younger he would love the activity. "Oh yeah, like when you were younger and loved it! Are you still that t!cklish?" Bruno asked, not meaning to fluster the boy any more than he already was. Camilo looked away once more covering his face with a hand as he pretended to look annoyed- though he secretly was hiding his blushing red face.

"Ugh- No. Im not- its so babish" Camilo groaned.

"T!cklings not babish! Tio Bruno's 50 and look" Mirabel begin to poke Bruno's sides and he jumped back, giggling and laughing, gently swatting his neices hand.

"Nohoht right nohow Mirahabel!" Mirabel stopped with a smirk but still turned to Camilo.

"It's okay to be t!cklish primo" she encouraged, trying to make the boy feel better, though the whole topic was sending him to hell.

"Y-yeah- I know- obviously it's fine. I'm just not-"

"Not what exactly?" Camilo jumped out of his skin when he saw his mother walking out of her and his father's room, Dolores too surprisingly.

"I- uh- nothing mami" Camilo had accidently made eye contact with his parents, showing his blushing and embarrassed face.

"Camilo's said he isn't t!cklish" Dolores explained, oh how quickly he cursed her gift once more.

"No- well- yeah- I'm not. It's dumb- I just wanna go to my room please?" Camilo stuttered and whined, looking over to his room.

Why was this becoming such a big thing? Why couldn't he just go to his room and calm down? Why did he have to be like this?

"It's not dumb hijo, its perfectly normal" Felix explained, wanting to reassure his teenage son.

"Yeah, anyway Camilo, you used to love it when you were younger" Pepa explained, quickly remembering her son who loved t!ckles.

Camilo grunted, why did they all suddenly care now? Why remember now? He had mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.

"Yeah- and that was like almost a decade ago. I've grown up since then, matured-"

"Pfft" Dolores couldn't hold back her snicker, she walked over and began poking her brothers side, knowing fully well he was still just as t!cklish as he was ten years ago.

"Hehey!" Camilo jumped back, his face blushed as he almost bumped into Bruno again.

"L-leave off- I'm not t!cklish!" Camilo slightly yelled, feeling embarrassed- yet something within him seemed happy? Excited almost?

"You're not t!cklish?" Pepa asked, raising an eyebrow at her son as Dolores let off with a sweet smile, knowing exactly what would go down now.

Camilo was a mischievous kid. He was cheeky, playful, dramatic; and where did he get this? His parents.

Pepa and Felix were both pretty playful people, even when they were younger they would be the out going ones! It wasn't a surprise one of their kids would take their playful and teasing traits.

Camilo trued to hold back his nervous giggles and blushing face, groaning at the whole situation.

When he was younger, his parents were ruthless. He loved it, but right now he just wanted to yell or hide or anything so he didn't have to feel so trapped and flustered. It was so dumb. He hated how he wanted to run, yet also hated how his mind seemed to slowly be travelling to cloud 9. Why why why!?

"Camilo, you used to love being t!ckled! What changed?" Felix asked, slightly teasing the boy as he wiggled a finger at him. Camilo ran a hand through his hair and groaned, trying to seem confident but failing as his voice cracked.

"N-nothing- I grew up and now I just- I just wanna get to my room! So please, please move?" Oh yes. Very confident. Zero eye contact, voice breaking, asking rather than demanding, MANNERS.

"Nothing changed?" Bruno asked, rather blunt as he smiled at his nephew.

Camilo span around, surprisingly close to his uncle as Dplores had made him almost fall onto him previously.

"What?! I- no- I- oh come on! I'm 15, this is so childish and stupid-"

"Camilo, are you embarrassed by t!ckling?" Bruno asked, interrupting his rambling and luckily making him stop before he blurted something he didn't want to.

Camilo stopped and his blush grew by 50%, unable to speak for a second.

"I'm not t!cklish, so why would I?" He asked, a little defensively. Honesty, no one knew who he was trying to convince, everyone had already seen his giggles at a few pokes, his blushing face was a grand tell too.

"Oh really?" Pepa asked, mischief in her voice as she smirked at her son.

"Mami-" Camilo watched as she stepped forward a little, making him step back and walk into Bruno who just held him lightly, feeling as he shook from bubbled up giggles in his throat and butterflies in his tummy.

"Felix, I think we should test this. If Camilo's telling the truth, he wouldn't mind right?" Pepa asked her husband, hand on her hip with a mischievous smile. Her husband had the exact sane look on his face, then turned to Camilo.

"Yeah, surely he shouldn't lie to us?"

Camilo squeaked very quietly, only Bruno and Delores being able to hear it. The two let out little giggles and a chuckle as Camilo was almost frozen. Bruno wasn't holding him tight, just hands on his arms so he had a chance to escape.

Camilo's body wouldn't move though. His mind raced and raced with thoughts about how dumb it was and how he needed to escape, but he also wanted it- it had been so long and maybe it was okay? He was childish all the time right? But then again, this is something he shouldn't enjoy, he should be embarrassed right?

Wrong.

Pepa teasingly wiggled her fingers at her son and smirked as she crouched forwards a little towards her son.

"Wahait- mami-" camilo couldn't help the tiny giggles that slipped through his mouth, hands up slightly as he tried to look away and hide his blushing face but couldn't.

"T!ckle t!ckle Camilo~" Mirabel teased from the sidelines, now standing with Dolores as the two watched the scene unfold.

Camilo grunted at his cousin but yelped as hands attatched themselves to his sides and belly, beginning to t!ckle around his belly button and sides.

"WAiAhait! Wahait mAmI!" Camilo jumped backwards into Bruno who just kept camilo there, lightly holding him as he fell backwards into him. Pepa had began to attack his torso, poking and spidering, or just casual t!ckle squeezing his sides.

Felix smirked, hands on his hips as he watched the scene, "Camilo? What's wrong? T!cklish?" He teased, unable to hide the shit eating grin on his face.

"Nohoho! NO NO-" Camilo hadn't even seen where his dad had walked up and began to help his wife, both taking a side each as each of their ten digits danced around a side each, sending Camilo into hystericals.

"EEE PfFt pLEASE-" Camilo couldn't seem to say stop, just laughing himself silly. It had been years since someone had done this to him, and he wasn't complaining anymore, though he kept up his little "I'm not t!cklish" act.

Camilo didn't even try to stop them yet, just hugging himself above their hands and laughing with blush filling his whole face. Freely letting them do as they pleased.

"Aw, Amor are you t!cklish?" Pepa awed, continuing to t!ckle her son and take a hand to the side of his neck. This made adorable giggles spill from his mouth, hunching up his shoulders to make it stop.

He couldn't handle it all, his mind splitting a couple times. This wasn't even half of what they used to do to wreck him, yet he was already squeezing his eyes shut and hugging himself.

It isn't possible to get more t!cklish is it?

"Nahaha ehehehe mami mami- papi-" Felix slowed down for a second to appreciate their sons adorable, child-like giggles, but said giggles only empowered his mum to continue her assault, moving around to the back of his neck to make him squeal slightly.

"Camilo, what's wrong? You're wiggling around so much!" Felix joined in again, attacking one of the boys hips and continuing his assault on his belly.

This really made a movement for Camilo, he doubled over, now covering his torso and hiding his neck, lifting up a arm where Pepa had stopped t!ckling his side to rub the neck t!ckles away.

T!ckling did something to your mind, because obviously this was a terrible mistake.

Bruno wrapped his arms around Camilo's torso, trying to keep him from falling over but accidentally making the boy laugh harder as he expected more t!ckles from the movement.

Camilo almost fell to the ground again when his papa attacked his ribcage, skittering his fingers all over one side. Camilo try to lean away but never tried to actually escape, emjoying the moment with his parents.

"EEE PFF WAHAHIT wAhAhHHaIt!" Camilo laugh was now his casual belly laughter, laughing as his dad wrecked his ribcage and squeezing his eyes shut even tighter.

"DAD- PAPI-" Camilo couldn't talk yet, letting his laughter light up the area.

"Yeah Camilo?" His dad answered, as though nothing was going on and began to squeeze the back of Camilo's ribs, causing him to jolt up and open himself up, trying to protect himself, though it was very difficult as his mother decided to play music on his ribcage.

"Felix, look! This one makes music" Pepa teased, treating her son as a toddler again, teasing him abd pretending. She began to poke different ribs and "play music" as she called it. Felix deciding to wreck his side abd ribs once more.

"OkAY OKAY! You WIHIHIN!" Camilo began to fight back mow, very lightly of course, holding his parents wrists with a hand each.

The two stopped instantly, giving their son some breathing and regain a little sanity; but they weren't done yet. They only stopped to look at each other as they realised the position they were in.

"Camilo, I think your t!cklish-" Bruno slightly whispered, well, he tried too, but was rather loud making everyone laugh and Camilo cringe.

"No no, our test isn't complete yet" Felix teased, smirking at his wife. Camilo looked up at the two with horror in his eyes, well- joy- but still. He couldn't believe they weren't done?! Not that a part of him wanted them to be.

"Waiaiahat- nohoho-" Camilo couldn't hold back his giggling, where else were they gonna go? How badly were they gonna wreck him? Sure so far they hadn't killed him, but he surrendered?- Well not really but still!

The two quickly shot their hands into the boys armpits, making him jump and almost knock over Bruno. He squealed and slammed his arms down, shaking his head as a smile quickly carved its way onto his mouth.

"Told you he was t!cklish" Dolores smirked from a far wotb Mirabel, watching as he threw his head back and squeaked, kicking out beneath him.

"SHUHUT UPPP DOLOREHEJES" Camilo swapped between light giggling and loud hearty laughter, desperately trying to escape now but unable to because his mind just faded with an escape plan, just standing there and taking it as he was above cloud 9, a smile on his face as he tried to do anything and everything.

The boy would throw his head back, kick out his legs- though just tio was pretty strong- try to scrunch up, he even did that tiny nose scrunch to hide his face. At one point he had his arms down and forearms up, trying to hide his face as giggles slipped through his hands. His sides would try to swivel and swerve but no matter what he could still feal the t!ckling fingers under his arms.

One hand each up his armpits, each parent had another hand left, both going for rather hellish spots to wreck their boy's mind. Pepa would t!ckle the top of Camilo's belly, very gently of course, making giggles spill from his mouth, whilst Felix decided to go for a kill and use his other hand to roughly squeeze the boys hips, making him jump and yell, almost kicking him somehow.

Camilo's brain was completely I'm fractures at this point. He couldn't handle all the different t!ckling in all the different places, making him want to scream, laugh, giggle, yet his mind wouldn't tell them apart so he just died in each. Tears began to spill from his eyes now, doubling over with laughter as he let the t!ckles take over.

There was only one thing Camilo knew for certain. He wanted this. He loved it.

"Camiloooo~" Camilo heard his name, yet the t!ckling didn't crease, "Camilo are you t!cklish?" Camilo couldn't answer, nor wanted too, only shaking his head. Though everyone else thought this wad him indicating a "no".

"Wow? He's still keeping up with the act?" Bruno and Dolores questioned, surprised at it.

"It's because hes secretly loving it" Mirabel joked, wanting to see how far he would go.

"So you're not t!cklish?" Pepa asked, continuing to wreck his armpit and belly.

Camilo began to giggle as he focused on the gentle belly tickles, but squealed when his father squeezed his hip again.

"PLEHAHESSESASEEE" Camilo tried to beg, he needed it to stop, but wanted it to continue. It seemed that was no secret to anyone.

Camilo fell to his knees in an instant, Bruno letting him gently fall rather than collapse. The boy couldn't hold up much longer and continued to squeal and laugh.

"Oh come on hijo, you used to be able to take this for way longer!" Felix teased, moving to gently t!ckle the boys neck.

"THAHAHAT WAS TEHEHEN YEARS AGOOOHOHO Nooooohoho" Camilo really couldn't stand the neck t!ckles, wiggling his head around more.

"Aw, you're adorable Camilo!" Pepa awed,watching as her son erupted into child-like giggles once more, almost hiccuping with sweet laughter.

Camilo was sitting on his knees now, his parents and tio doing the same, he was surrounded by t!ckles and giggles, laughter filling the air.

"Last time Camilo; Are you t!cklish?" His mum asked, trying to sound as though this was a very important issue that they would have to fix.

"MaHAHAmI! StAhAHaP aSKinHihing!" Camilo begged, emjoying the moment but knowing whatever answer he gave would choose his fate.

"Fine mi Amor, but don't blame me for what happens next!" His parents nodded at Bruno who let the kid go, his parents t!ckling him to the ground as Pepa sat on his waist and Felix held up his arms.

They let the t!ckling stopped for a moment, giving their son a breather and a little bit of his sanity back.

Camilo whined with giggles as he let his head fall back, not even realising the position just yet. He had blush all over his face, a smile, and his hair a mess everywhere on the ground and around around his face.

But the boys smile faded as he kept his eyes closed, realising what had happened, what might happen, he couldn't stop the thoughts that convinced him he was weak and childish.

"Mahami- papi- plehease... this is so dumb and embarrassing" He whined, apparently not learning his lesson just yet...

"You're a child Camilo" Pepa sighed with a smile, "everyone's t!cklish, and if you enjoy it, don't be embarrassed" Felix bumped in, smiling at his son.

Camilo needed to be told that, parts of him still not believing it, but he still needed to hear it.

"Anyway, I'm hungry" Pepa teased, looking down at her sons belly and picking up her hands into claws above him.

Quickly Camilo realised the situation and watched as horror, looking to his sister, cousin and uncle for help, but each had a smile or smirk on their face as they waited for the show.

"Mami- mami wahait- we can talk about this? Dinner will be ready soon-" Pepa only shook her head as Camilo began to beg, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

"No no, your belly looks much nicer, and I'm hungry now. You don't mind do you? Seeing as you're not t!cklish?" Pepa teased, going in for the gold as she gently began to lift up his shirt and ruana. Camilo had already started giggling at the air and fabric that glided over his skin.

He looked to his father for support but he had the same shit eating grin, holding the boys arms above his head as he held a hand over the boys death spot, giving his armpit a gentle poke that made him dissolve into laughter.

"Mi vida, do you think he got more t!cklish?!" Felix teased, looking up to his wife as their son continued to laugh beneath them, only having a poke.

Pepa shook her head, "no, no, he can't be, he's not t!cklish!" She teased, poking her sons belly a little, making him wiggle.

"Pleheheaseee"

"Ohhh, yeah- you're right!" Felix teased, t!ckling their sons neck making him hunch up.

"Guhuhuys!"

"Anyway, I'm hungry!"

"Mahami! mahHAMII AH NOHOHO NO NO MAMIIIIIIII" Camilo screamed as his mother quickly pounced, clawing his sides and squeezing as she took a big breath, then blew a massive raspberry on her sons tummy.

"MAMI- NOHO NO YOU WIN YOU WIN PLEASEEE" Camilo lifted his back and flopped around as he yelled, screaming laughter filled the room as his dad stuck his fingers into his armpits and began to t!ckle him silly.

"PAPI- MAMI NO- WAHAIT WAITHHFDKAGAHSHAT" Camilo's words quickly mixed in with his laughter as he was free to thrash around as he was tortured. He squealed and screamed, closing his eyes tightly as tears prickled.

His mother blew another rasberry, gripping his hips and squeezing, turning his laughter silent, his dad swapped hands and he quickly began to twist and trash more.

This continued for what felt like hours. Camilo finally gave up on fighting back, limping and occasionally lifting his back as his mum would blow another rasberry.

He threw his head back, hair everywhere and blush grown way past his ears and down his neck, his smile plastered onto his face and threatened to stick forever as the wonder continued.

Pepa landed a few light kisses on her sons tummy, gently fluttering her fingers over his sides as Felix stopped and t!ckles his neck. Camilo was so done, so worn out, he just sat back as his giggles spilled from his mouth.

"Aw- that was adorable-" Mirabel stated, awing at her primo. Dolores agreed with a smile, Bruno too. Then Julieta called everyone fir dinner, the three left and explained the others might be a couple more minutes.

Felix and Pepa both let off, helping their son sit up with them. Pepa sat on her knees and Felix on a knee, Camilo was still silly with giggles and sat up with a light head. Camilo couldn't hide his happiness, both his parents awing at his adorableness. Felixed ruffled the boys hair with a proud smile.

"See, not so childish or bad is it?"

Camilo didn't answer, though his giggles did fade.

"I mean- I never said it was bad but-"

"Ah, so you do still enjoy it?" Pepa teased, smiling at her eldest son.

Camilo blushed and grunted, not necessarily agreeing but he didn't disagree.

"Why are you so embarrassed about it?" Felix asked, putting a reassuring hand on his sons shoulder.

Camilo was silent for a second but let out a sigh, he was still a little loopy from all the t!ckles so he couldn't think properly and just started talking.

Camilo explained that they knew he liked it when he was younger, but they had stopped after Bruno disappeared and never really did anything again, and after Antonio was born they would never t!ckle him and so he assumed it was something to be ashamed of or that it was only for children so he shouldn't enjoy it. Normally he would be able to shape shift to get rid of something he couldn't cope with, be someone else. But he couldn't with his mind, so he hated that he liked it and and-

He didn't finish though, broken by his parents who both leant in and took their boy in for a hug.

"We're so sorry Camilo" Pepa never wanted to do that, Felix neither. They explained it was okay to enjoy tickling, that it was okay if it was childish, many people young or old still enjoyed it.

The reason they hasn't done it was because they had been under so much stress and after Bruno left, it was just strange because he also used to like it and it reminded Pepa of him.

"We promise to t!ckle you more often" Camilo cringed and blushed at that, though they were trying to be sincere and helped him up.

"Ohokay- that- er- let's just drop it for now" Camilo laughed nervously, cringing at the promise. Felix poked the boys side, sending him jumping through the air.

"Never dropping this" he said, teasing his son yet again.

"Yeah, we should show everyone at dinner how t!cklish you are" Pepa teased, nudging her son.

Camilo put his hands up and blushed, a nervous smile on his face. "NO! Noho- no I'm okay- let's just go-"

Camilo received many more t!ckles after that.

264 notes · View notes

clairenatural · 4 years

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i had a dream that sam and dean took cas to an art museum and showed him all these paintings of angels and it was like that scene in vincent and the doctor and cas said these paintings are beautiful because they depict the angels as human when a true angel could never be described as anything but monstrous and i woke up crying

anon i love this SO much. i love it so much i had to write it. this is 1.4k, destiel, human!cas

They’re making their way out of the city, monster killed and day saved, when Castiel sees a poster, pasted up on the side of the plywood wall of a construction site. It’s an angel—he doesn’t recognize the artist, but he’d guess late 19th century. Be Not Afraid: a History of Angels in Art, it proclaims, the logo of the city’s largest art gallery tucked into the corner.

Castiel stares at it. The angel on the poster stares back, wings spread and staff raised. Valiant. Something in his heart twitches, but it’s hard to place. He still has his blade, tucked safely into the trunk with the rest of their frequently used weapons, and he never had wings like that; even the shadows, the ones they showed to humans, were simply the closest representation to the real thing possible in this dimension (his back aches anyway, dimly, his human body reacting to the loss as if they were real severed appendages. He ignores it).

Dean notices, because of course he does. He stops, because of course he does, and flags Sam down before his long legs can carry him too far ahead. “Hey. You good?”

Castiel isn’t sure how long he’s been staring at the poster, but it’s long enough that Dean is obviously concerned. “Hm? Oh. Yes, I’m—I’m fine.”

Dean nods but doesn’t move. He considers the poster. “Art gallery, huh?” he asks, avoiding the obvious elephant. Castiel appreciates it. He nods back.

“I’ve never been to one,” he offers, as explanation. It seems odd—he can remember the painting of the Sistine Chapel, he remembers watching with fascination as humans began collecting the smaller paintings into collections and museums, but he’d never been inside one. It hadn’t seemed necessary. Humans collect art in large boxes to remember their history, but Castiel has seen it all.

Dean seems surprised by this. “Seriously?” Castiel nods, and there’s a pause, and he’s about to turn and keep heading towards the car, and Kansas, and home, when Dean claps him on the shoulder and turns to call over his own.

“Sammy! How do you feel about seeing some art?”

“You want to go to an art gallery?” Sam sounds incredulous, and is closer behind him than Cas expected. He hadn’t noticed him retreat the half-block he’d managed to gain on them.

“Yeah, why not? Come on. What happened to ‘a little culture wouldn’t hurt, Dean?’”

"What happened to ‘I’ve got plenty of culture, eat your damn burger?’”

“It’ll be fun, Sam,” Dean counters. Something in his tone has changed. Cas doesn’t think too hard about it.

There’s a long pause, and Cas knows there’s some sort of communication happening he can’t hear or see. “…Okay,” Sam concedes. “Okay, sure. Yeah. Let’s go.”

So they do.

Dean makes a comment about “haven’t been in one of these since I was a kid,” before they all fall into the hushed silence of the museum floor. It’s nice—nicer than Castiel had expected. Not in aesthetics; the building is sleek, and modern, and the art is obviously beautiful. But it’s nice to be there. It feels almost Holy—humans, funny creatures they are, with their habit of treating their own culture with the respect of something divine. Creating houses of worship out of museums and libraries and living rooms.

He wanders through the various exhibits but doesn’t really pay attention until he ends up in the exhibit from the poster. He’d managed to lose the Winchesters halfway through the photography exhibit, when both the brothers had gotten distracted. Castiel had continued onward anyway, on a mission, and by the time he finds himself walking into the angel exhibit he’s on his own.

He comes to a stop in front of one of the largest paintings in the room. It’s not the same angel as the poster. It’s several, actually, looking over what appears to be Mary and a baby Jesus. The angels are beautiful—smooth, flawless skin. They have long hair that looks soft, even in paint. They’re wearing white robes, and their wings are white and dove-like. None of these angels have several heads, rotating bands of fire, or thousands of eyes. They’re beautiful, but they aren’t angels. The human who painted this didn’t know that, of course—none of them did. Humanity was faced with the concept of divinity and conceptualized it as a version of itself.

“The real things ain’t as cuddly, huh?”

Dean’s voice startles him, which he hates, both because he hates being startled and because he’s still adjusting to Dean being able to sneak up on him.

“I was just thinking,” he starts, pretending he’d known Dean was there the whole time, “you paint us like we’re human.” Not ‘us’ anymore, he reminds himself, but he brushes that thought off. Not now.

Beside him, Dean snorts. “Yeah, well. If you’d told any of those Renaissance guys that the real angels are dickhead balls of celestial intent, they’d’ve arrested you for heresy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No.” he pauses. “Well, yes. But that’s—” he turns to face Dean for the first time. He notices Sam over Dean’s shoulder, focusing intently on a painting a few feet away and obviously pretending not to listen.

“My father—God—Chuck,” he cycles through, which will never not be weird, “created us first, but not in his image. We weren’t worthy of that. Only you were. Humans, his perfect creation, modeled after their creator. But then—” he turns back to the painting and gestures to it. “You created us in your image. You thought about divinity and you couldn’t conceive anything more Holy than yourselves.”

Dean shifts. He tries for a laugh, but it comes out short. “Well, damn, Cas. Way to make a guy feel self-centered.”

Castiel turns back to him. He blinks. He frowns. That’s not what he means. “Most of my siblings thought so,” he agrees. “But I always thought it was an honor. Look,” He turns again and reaches out for the painting, only remembering a few inches from its surface to not touch it. “This one has a lyre. You always paint us playing music. But music, art….these are human things, Dean.” He lets his hand fall, but keeps his eyes forward. “We’re soldiers. They don’t teach us to play the harp in Heaven, they train us to fight. But these angels are…soft. Kind. Angels you trust to protect. The kind of angels people pray to, build churches to.” He looks back at Dean, who is staring at him with a frown. He holds his gaze, steady, and takes a deep breath before finishing. “I wish I was—that any of us were—worthy of being depicted this way. I wish we were the angels you paint us as.”

There’s a long pause while Dean searches his face, obviously trying to decide on the right reaction. If they were at home, Cas thinks Dean might reach out and hug him. Instead, Dean reaches out to clap a hand on his shoulder—he lets it linger there, and Cas knows what it means, so that’s okay, too. “For what it’s worth,” he starts, and his voice is softer than the last time he spoke. “You’re the closest thing to those angels that I’ve ever seen.”

It’s a nice sentiment, but Cas smiles sadly as he turns back to the painting. “I’m not any kind of angel anymore,” he points out, and tries his hardest to keep his voice neutral.

Dean squeezes his shoulder and tilts his head, trying to recapture Castiel’s gaze. “Hey. Look at me.” Reluctantly, he looks back over. “Your wings weren’t what made you a good angel, alright?” he brings his other hand up to poke into Castiel’s chest. “That was all in here.”

He sounds like he’s quoting the Wizard of Oz, and Cas wants to make a joke about that, but he’s also never wanted to kiss Dean more. He doesn’t, because they’re in a museum, and they’re still working up to that, but he makes a note to do it later. Instead, he reaches up and pulls Dean’s hand away from his chest, links it in his own, and squeezes.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s earnest, and it’s for everything.

Dean smiles. He understands. He squeezes back.

#i do hope it was ok to write this #i was hoarding this ask until i could #bc i couldnt stop thinking about it!!!#Anonymous #answered #my words #over 1k words #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #i am Not an art historian so i tried to keep all the descriptions vague enough to not cause problems but if there are issues im sorry

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madness-manic-antics · 3 years

Text

On the Track to Victory

Part 6: Night Slash

The world stops for Ingo. Everything fades away, from the pain in his back to the noises of the poachers and the growling of the Pokemon pinning him.

He knows that voice. By Almighty Sinnoh, he knows that voice. Knows it like the back of his hand, like the air in his lungs.

He’s snapped back to reality when he hears Victoria, snarling, kick off the Umbreon, giving it a nasty bite on one of its ears for her trouble. Hisuian Zorua have terrifying mouths hidden under that ruff. The Eeveelution attempts to subdue her but tries Shadow Ball instead of Dark Pulse, which passes harmlessly through her, thank goodness for the Normal Type, and then a massive yellow spider (Galvantula…) jumps over Ingo and the Pokemon pinning him and fires a lightning bolt that sends the Umbreon skittering away with a hiss.

"Who are you?!" Demands one of the poachers.

"Dude! That's Emmet! One of the Subway Masters!"

"Oh, I thought he was missing!"

"No that's Ingo you idiot!"

"I'm not an idiot, you're an idiot!"

"Hey, don't talk to Sally like that!"

As the poachers begin squabbling among each other, the Galvantula gets the Pokemon off Ingo's back with a violent spray of webby gunk.

Emmet. The name echoes around in his head. Ingo takes a deep breath.

"Uncle!" The small form of Victoria stumbles past the large spider, and she rushes over.

"Hey! We're losing them!" One of the poachers shouts, getting the attention of the others. "I want that weird Zorua too!"

Ingo picks himself up and grabs Victoria as she comes closer. He can feel the rips on the back of his jacket when he half hides her inside. He can feel the slashes, too, aching and bleeding. He's never going to get that out of it without damaging his coat further.

"Are you okay?" The Galvantula asks, and it's a little jarring to realize that he can understand it-- her. It's one thing to understand Victoria, who has the same issue as him, another to perfectly understand a normal Pokemon.

Ingo pauses, trying to come up with an answer. He's not okay, neither of them are, so he simply shakes his head-- the poachers are screaming. Ingo turns to see them running like Almighty Sinnoh itself is after them, chased by nearly a whole team of Pokemon.

He turns further and sees Emmet.

Emmet. The one who looked like him, the man with the white coat to match his black one, the one with the voice ingrained in Ingo's mind. It's like seeing him lifts a curtain off his mind.

Emmet. His twin brother.

Victoria growls at Emmet. Honestly, Ingo thinks it's cute. She's not going to scare anyone looking like that.

"Shh, easy." Emmet says gently, kneeling down. "Calm down, I am not going to hurt you."

Ingo taps Victoria's ear. "It's okay, Miss Victoria." He chides her gently.

"Can I see your back? Houndoom claws are huge and sharp. I've got some bandages here…"

Even knowing who this is, Ingo shakes his head. He's not putting Victoria down any time soon. She's shaking with the effort of staying awake thanks to all those Dark Pulses.

"Is she alright?" Emmet asks gently. "What a strange Zorua. Is that an illusion?"

Ingo shakes his head.

Emmet nods slowly, backing up a bit when Victoria growls. He puts his hands up in surrender. "Yes, you are very scary." He says, unable to keep a straight face.

"I know it looks funny, but she's dangerous." Ingo says on habit, then falters when he realizes Emmet… probably can't understand him.

Several Pokemon aside from the Galvantula return.

"They slipped us." A lamplike Pokemon growls. She's covered in a wreath of flames that fade after a moment. She looks at him, stopping. "Huh?"

There's something deeply familiar about her.

"If you do not want me touching you, can I at least take you to a Pokemon Center? You are bleeding." Emmet nods at the puddle slowly forming under Ingo, dripping down the long oversized coat.

Ingo… doesn't know what that is. His confusion must show on his face because his brother continues, simultaneously recalling the Pokemon into much different Poke Balls than he's used to, "It is a place where Pokemon are healed of their injuries in the town."

A red roofed building flashes across his mind.

"Uncle Ingo… I don't feel good." Victoria whimpers, squirming deeper into the folds of cloth. Of course she doesn't. Dark Pulses are not fun to be hit with, and he saw at least four.

He, much to the chagrin of Victoria, holds her out. She needs medical attention. She is not in good repair. "You're hurt too!" She protests.

"Both of you." Emmet nods along. "I am Emmet. I can take you there."

Victoria squirms back into Ingo's coat. Ingo nods at Emmet, adjusting his niece in the cloth so he can hold her easier.

"Don't worry." He tells her. "This is my brother. I remember… My twin. I'm a twin. That's why…"

She gasps softly in response. "A man who looks like you."

"Yes…"

"May I pick you up? You are swaying on your feet." Emmet says.

Ingo sighs and nods, the action bringing him a wave of nausea. He needs to figure out how to communicate to his brother that he's right here, but he's dizzy and tired and sick.

Emmet takes off his coat and packs it in the bag slung over his shoulder, then picks Ingo and Victoria up gently and carefully, cradling them against his chest, ignoring the blood on his non-coat clothes.

Victoria pokes her head out of Ingo's jacket and rests it on his chest.

"Are we safe?" She asks, with all the earnestness of the child she is.

He's not sure, but he believes so. He offers her a nod, and she immediately flumps over ungracefully, asleep in seconds.

Emmet chuckles. Ingo can't help but grin through the pain.

Yeah, they're safe.

1234567890

By the time Emmet has gotten to the Anville Pokemon Center, both Pokemon are firmly in the grips of unconsciousness. He opens the doors with us shoulder, ignoring the stares of passerby seeing him out of the house for once.

To his surprise, Elesa is already there. He hasn't even called her yet!

"I was coming to give you a hand, but clearly you've still got it. Just gotta shake that rust off." The model says, walking over from the counter. "Wow, it's really beat up. Poor thi-- what's with the weird Zorua in a bandana?"

Emmet shrugs, having no idea.

"Okay then." Elesa runs her hand over the coat, looking at the hat. "Definitely Ingo's. How did it get it?"

"I'm hoping to find out." Emmet says a bit stiffly, worried this is a bad lead that will lead to bad news.

Nurse Joy takes one look at the injured Pokemon and rushes them back on a stretcher with the help of her Audino. Emmet and Elesa follow her.

He can't imagine why a Sneasel would have his brother's things.

As soon as she has them in a room she starts removing clothes, revealing that both of them have bags too, the Zorua has hers tied to her back and the Sneasel has his slung around his shoulders under the coat.

"That's… strange." Nurse Joy mutters, untying them and setting them aside. "Leader Elesa was just telling me about this Sneasel. Audino, a sterile wet towel, please."

She's passed a thick wipe meant for fur. "Aud!"

"I'm going to try to wipe this up and see the damage." She quickly but carefully begins mopping up the blood, revealing nasty slashes on the small back of the Pokemon. Emmet frowns.

"That is verrry bad." He murmurs.

"What did this?" Nurse Joy asks as she quickly begins disinfecting the cuts.

"A Houndoom. Might be Night Slash? I thought it was just pinning him but clearly…"

"Looks about right for Night Slash. What about the Zorua?"

"An Umbreon. It was firing Dark Pulses at first but it tried Shadow Ball and that… did not work."

"What do you mean did not work?"

"No sell. Like a Normal Type." Emmet reports.

"Strange… and he was wearing this coat? Isn't that…" Nurse Joy trails off awkwardly as she works.

"Absolutely."

"Hmm."

The Sneasel suddenly hisses and whimpers in his sleep and the Zorua's head snaps up, dark eyes narrowing.

The growls this time are much less adorable. They almost make the hair on the back of Emmet's neck stand up.

Nurse Joy's Audino is there in a second, attempting to soothe her, but only gets snapped at.

"Shhh… you're worried about him?" Nurse Joy hums gently. "Would you like to see?"

The Zorua glares at her but hesitantly approaches, hissing unhappily as the Sneasel whimpers again. Nurse Joy politely shows her the cuts.

The Pokemon stares for almost thirty seconds, eyes wide, before she turns to the Audino and barks at it.

Whatever she communicated, it seems to have shocked the nurse Pokemon. She tugs on Joy's skirt and then types something Emmet can't see on the computer.

"A blood test?" Nurse Joy asks, and the Pokemon nods. "Okay."

Elesa puts her hand on Emmet's arm. "Anyway, can we leave and wait in the lobby? I'm getting woozy… I don't like blood."

She does look pale as paper. He nods and helps her out of the room and back to the lobby.

Now all they can do it wait to find out what secrets these Pokemon hold. Hopefully something that will lead him to his brother.

#pokemon legends ingo #pokemon elesa #emmet pokemon #on the track to victory au #tw: blood #transfer error au

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

214 notes · View notes

whumpmatsus · 3 years

Note

I am just absolutely in love with how you write! I think I have a good iromatsu idea; after a prank gone wrong Kara gives Ichi the silent treatment to the extreme; does not talk to him, sit near him, or even stay in the same room when they're alone and even switched sleeping spots. Kara thinks it'll teach Ichi a lesson, but really it devestates Ichi and Kara tries to comfort him now.

aaaa thank you!! everyone is so nice with compliments like that, it motivates me to write more and always puts a smile on my face to hear kind words!!! <3

and ahhh this is definitely a good Iromatsu idea!! it was so much fun to write ;7;

Ichi stop being so emotionally constipated and show your feelings to your brothers, they love you and it'll make you feel better ;w;

In hindsight, perhaps Ichimatsu should have known better than to mess with Karamatsu’s guitar.

It would be one thing if he fucked with the leather jacket, or the sunglasses, or one of the tank tops with Karamatsu’s own face on it, because he’s pretty sure Karamatsu has an endless supply of those. His guitar, however, is something which doesn’t have a backup. It’s quite possibly the only thing Karamatsu loves more than himself, though obviously not as much as he loves his brothers.

For some stupid reason, it only hits Ichimatsu after the prank he pulls that this guitar is probably Karamatsu’s sole most important possession.

Of course, by the time it does hit him, the damage has already been done. He thought that the expression on his brother’s face would be over the top, hilarious, and the highlight of his day.

Instead, it’s burned into his brain in the worst way. When Karamatsu saw his younger brother letting the kitten in his lap bat at a ball made of his guitar’s strings, it was as if someone had just shoved a knife in his back.

God, Ichimatsu hates that kind of expression. That betrayed, wounded, raw look.

That hurts. What hurts worse is that for the rest of the day, it’s as if Karamatsu only has four brothers. Ichimatsu tries to apologize, and he’s met with Karamatsu walking out of the room entirely. No matter what he does, Karamatsu doesn’t want to be near him. He goes so far as to eat dinner in the other room with their parents rather than sit around a table with Ichimatsu.

Everyone knows what Ichimatsu did, but none of the others have ever seen Karamatsu quite so upset either. It would be a miracle if they aren’t all pissed at him, too.

The worst blow comes when they’re all getting ready for bed. Ichimatsu is more tired than usual for whatever reason, so he’s prepared to fall asleep the second his head hits the pillow. When he settles into his spot at one end of the futon, he rolls over with the intention of giving Karamatsu a gruff, apologetic hug… only to come face to face with very obviously not Karamatsu.

He hisses something about why the hell Totty is in Karamatsu’s spot, and Totty gives him the explanation that Karamatsu asked to switch tonight. “… But I’ll take the hug, though,” he teases as he cuddles up, so Ichimatsu can’t shove him away or he’ll be an asshole.

Even with the youngest sleeping soundly pressed against him, Ichimatsu barely sleeps a wink himself. He doesn’t like this. Despite the fact that he tries to convince himself he doesn’t give a shit about Karamatsu, the truth is that Karamatsu is still his big brother. The thought of admitting that he loves Karamatsu and thinks he’s cool leaves a horrible taste in his mouth, but…

He doesn’t like this.

He wanted to play a stupid prank and maybe just get on Karamatsu’s nerves a little bit. He never wanted to have Karamatsu so angry with him that he won’t speak to Ichimatsu, that he doesn’t even want to sleepnext to him.

This… hurts.

Although Ichimatsu may not sleep much during the night, he refuses to get up in the daytime when everyone else does.

Sometimes that’s not so worrying. The others know Ichimatsu sleeps a lot at odd hours when his depression kicks in, and rather than risk getting growled at, they often just let him sleep. As long as they can get him up in time for lunch, it doesn’t usually affect him too much.

… It’s after 2 P.M. now, though, and even with everyone knowing he’s awake, Ichimatsu won’t get out of bed.

Out of all the brothers, regardless of the fact that Karamatsu has been trying to teach his little brother a lesson, he’s probably the most worried about this. Even though he’s definitely angry about what Ichimatsu did, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to forgive him.

It was heartbreaking to see that Ichimatsu would damage something that means so much to Karamatsu. Even with how much Ichimatsu doesn’t like him, Karamatsu never thought his little brother would intentionally do anything to his guitar.

But… he did notice the look on Ichimatsu’s face every time Karamatsu gave him the cold shoulder. Combined with the fact that Ichimatsu is staying in bed, Karamatsu thinks that maybe he went a bit too far with this punishment.

Ichimatsu doesn’t even lift his head when Karamatsu pokes into their shared bedroom and calls, “Brother?”

So he creeps in a bit more. And more. And more, until he’s standing at the edge of the futon, five empty spaces away from his brother. Most of the time, he’s so good with words… even if he has to plan them out beforehand, or even if they sometimes sound painful.

Now, he doesn’t really know what to say.

“Ichimatsu…” He frowns and traces circles in the carpet with his foot. “It’s nearly three in the afternoon. Aren’t you getting up?”

What he gets in response is a listless shrug. It’s not in typical Ichimatsu fashion, though. “What’s the point? Leave me alone. You haven’t had any problem doing that so far.”

Ouch. Unfortunately, Karamatsu supposes that fair is fair.

He inches forward until he’s not too far, then lowers himself down next to Ichimatsu. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not. And you shouldn’t be. I’m garbage, and what I did was shitty. Shittier than you and your entire wardrobe.” Ichimatsu’s knees come up to his chest, body curling into a tight ball. “I deserve to have you mad at me for the rest of my life. You hate me and I hate myself, too. I’m…”

There’s a weird sound, like Ichimatsu is choking on his own words. “… I’m sorry. Just go away. Don’t bother with me. I’m not worth your time.”

Every word feels like there’s a vise tightening, tightening, tightening, around Karamatsu’s heart. That’s… what?? Ichimatsu really thinks that Karamatsu hates him?

He definitely wouldn’t have expected to see his younger brother so broken up about that fact. Ichimatsu often goes out of his way to avoid Karamatsu’s company, so shouldn’t he be relieved that Karamatsu stopped wanting to be around him?

A quiet moment passes before Karamatsu reaches to drape an arm over Ichimatsu. There’s practically no resistance as he pulls the fourth eldest in against him, gently rubbing his shoulder.

“I don’t hate you,” he murmurs. “It’s… true that I’m upset with you. Or at least I was. This was… I wasn’t going to shut you out forever. To be honest, I thought you would be happy that I wasn’t bothering you anymore. I anticipated that perhaps my silence would make you angry. That you might snap at me after a day or so and tell me you were sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

He shifts his hands around with the intent of trying to move Ichimatsu to face him, but stops cold when his palm meets dampness on his brother’s cheek.

Is Ichimatsu… crying??

Karamatsu freezes at that thought. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Ichimatsu cry since they were kids. Then, he pulls his little brother in closer. There’s no struggling, no protests, just a stifled sob as Ichimatsu ducks his head down.

Karamatsu rests his head against the top of Ichimatsu’s. “… Did my treatment really hurt you that badly? Are you really that anguished by the idea that I would stop wanting anything to do with you?”

There’s no response except a nod, something that Ichimatsu seems to try and stop anyway.

A soft exhale puffs against Ichimatsu’s neck, and the way he stiffens suggests that the sudden warm air sent a shiver up his spine. “I’m… so sorry. I truly didn’t believe it would hurt you so much.”

“You’re still my Karamatsu-nii-san.” The admission is followed by a sniffle as he rubs at his eyes. “Just because I’m trash doesn’t mean I don’t…”

“Ahahah… you love me. That’s it, right?” Karamatsu teases lightly. He tugs his baby brother closer still, and is surprised when Ichimatsu abruptly rolls over to bury his face against Karamatsu’s chest.

Ichimatsu’s skinny arms find their way around Karamatsu’s waist, hugging as tightly as he can bring himself to. He hates it. He hates that Karamatsu is right,and how he can’t even actually say the words himself, and crying, and everything about this. Why is anyone, even his big brother, still bothering with him?

“… Please don’t be mad at me anymore,” he mumbles. That begging voice is so small and barely even sounds like him, even to himself. “I don’t… I don’t like it.”

Karamatsu chuckles and gingerly rubs Ichimatsu’s back. It’s a little sad to consider, but their relationship has become so strained now that they’re adults, to the point that Ichimatsu being so honest about his feelings to anyof his brothers, especially Karamatsu, is rare. It would probably be easier to pull his teeth than to get him to confess that something is wrong until it’s bubbling over and he can’thide it anymore.

He holds Ichimatsu as close as he can, and it feels like Ichimatsu is trying to keep himself tiny and safe inside the embrace. A kiss is pressed to the top of Ichimatsu’s head; a shaky, tearful breath is the instant reaction. “All is forgiven, my brother. I would never dream of truly abandoning you like that. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for upsetting you to such a degree.”

He gives a cautious squeeze, reassured when Ichimatsu squeezes back. “You are one of the most important people in my world, Ichimatsu. You’re my little brother, and I love you very much, and I regret to inform you that there is most likely nothing you can do to ever change that.”

Ichimatsu relaxes, if only slightly. He’ll get up soon, and even though hearing these things isn’t a magic switch that makes him feel better about himself or what he’s done… it’s a comfort. It means that Karamatsu isn’t so angry with him that he’s been disowned.

“If you are ever hurt or insecure about any of that,” Karamatsu hums softly, “all you need to do is come find me and let yourself be held in my arms. I hope you know that.”

… Well.

If he didn’t before, he certainly does now.

#Osomatsu san #whump #angst #Iromatsu #Ichimatsu #Karamatsu #emotional whump #AAAAAA MY HEART SHE IS FULL #Ichibabe just talk to ur brothers THEY LOVE YOU AND KARA WOULDN'T HATE YOU #aaaaa my boys ;v;

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

bahamas (v)

wordcount: 6.2k

warnings: hinting at sexual content

______

Rafe found Colin the next morning, lanky limbs sprawled out on the couch with a blanket haphazardly tossed on top of him, his arm hanging off the edge of the couch as he slept. “Yo.”

“Mmph.” Colin grumbled in reply, stirring. He blinked a few times as he realized Rafe was standing in front of him, looking confused. “Hey.”

“Hey. You got kicked out?”

“James and Julia, they…” Colin trailed off, gesturing toward their rooms. “So I let Allie have my bed, and I’m out here.” A small scowl settled onto his face as a wide grin grew on Rafe’s. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say a thing.” Rafe laughed. “You are down bad, brother. Down bad.”

“Do not breathe a word of this to anyone, or I’ll tell Sophie you’ve been pining after her since high school.” Colin sat up, stretching. “I mean it.”

“Oh, she already knew that.” Rafe shook his head, grinning. “But don’t worry. Secret’s safe with me. You think Allie will remember? Did anything happen?”

“Nothing. Literally nothing.” Colin shrugged. “Does Sophie know about Julia and James?”

“What about us?” Julia asked, James and Allie trailing right behind her as they came down the hall for breakfast. “That we fucked?”

Rafe winced. “Can you not?”

“She doesn’t know?”

“No. And I’d like to keep it that way.” Rafe pointed at everyone, serious. “If any of you tell before we leave tomorrow, I’ll strangle you and leave your body here. I swear.”

“Dibs on telling her when we leave.” Colin said quickly, grinning.

“Be my guest.” James shrugged.

“Okay. Now. You two need to promise to not hook up again, I swear, you’re aging me by years. I’m tired of navigating your sex lives and you both know you’re not good together.” Rafe instructed, arms crossed.

“That’s fair.” Julia nodded, turning to shake hands with James. He nodded too, shaking her hand then kissed the back of her hand just to make her grin. She rolled her eyes, tugging her hand away.

“Thank you. Now. Breakfast?” Rafe gestured toward the kitchen.

“Where’s Sophie?” Allie yawned, stretching as she followed them all in.

“Definitely hungover and she was definitely drooling on the pillow.” He smiled fondly as Sophie came into the kitchen, hair in a messy bun and pillow marks still pressed into her cheek. “Morning, sleeping beauty!”

“You talkin shit on me?” She asked, leaning into his side as he looped his arm around her.

“He said you looked like shit.” James grinned. “He was right.”

“Shut the fuck up, James, I’m still mad at you -”

“Just because your boyfriend prefers my kisses -” He stepped around the kitchen counter, trying to avoid as she came closer.

“Oh my god! I forgot about that! I can’t believe you -”

“Look, he technically kissed me first -“ James gasped, looking way too delighted with himself. “Oh my god! Sophie! We’re spit sisters!”

As she grabbed the wooden spoon from off the counter, Rafe plucked it out of her hand from behind just as quickly. “Whoa! Hey. Can you two please be civil? James, stop antagonizing. Soph, quit arguing with someone that isn’t me.”

Colin wrinkled his nose. “Really? That makes you jealous?”

“It’s our thing.” He frowned, pulling Sophie into his arms again from behind, satisfied when she leaned back against him.

She tilted her head up to catch her lips on the underside of his jaw. “You’re too possessive.”

“Bold of you to talk.” Julia snorted.

“Whatever. What’d I miss?”

Everyone shared a look, Rafe glaring at everyone behind Sophie’s back, until Allie shook her head. “Nothing, we all just woke up too. I think we should go surfing today, it’s our last full day.”

“Only you three can surf.” Julia replied, pointing at Allie and Rafe and Sophie.

“We can teach you.” Rafe suggested, only for Sophie to snort.

“You can’t surf for shit, Rafe.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. I haven’t gone in years, but yeah, we can try.” Sophie pulled out her phone, starting to google board rentals until Rafe poked her in the side.

“I know how to surf.”

“Okay, so your concussion sophomore year of high school wasn’t from a wipeout? Because I’m pretty sure I can still find the video on YouTube, actually, thanks to Wheezie uploading it -”

“Hey, Sophie, no -” He grabbed at her phone, scrambling to get it away, but she just tossed it to James who caught it easily with a grin and pulled up the Youtube app immediately.

“Is it saved? Under...oh, here.” He laughed as Rafe struggled against Sophie’s arms.

“Everyone knows Kooks can’t surf, baby.” She murmured to him, grinning when he scowled and bumped his forehead against hers.

“What’s a Kook?” Colin asked.

“The kind of people Rafe grew up with.” Sophie let him go, moving to his side.

“Didn’t you grow up with them too?”

She laughed, shaking her head right away. “Ha. No. I only went to school with them starting in eighth grade. I’m not...no. That’s not me.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” Rafe interjected, careful. He’d never directly told James and Colin about the environment he grew up in, but they picked up on a lot of things - they didn’t have to go through etiquette classes, or own mansions or attend literal balls every year. He also hadn’t told them about how Sophie wasn’t like that at all, figuring if she wanted to share more, then she could do so on her own terms.

“So you’re a pog?” James cocked his head and Rafe winced, hating the direction the conversation was going in.

“Um...it’s pogue, but no? Not quite?” Sophie answered with a shrug. She’d never found herself fitting in with the rest of the kids on the Cut, especially once she started going to the private academy, but then again, the kooks weren’t exactly her world either. She lived in a weird in-between, working side by side through high school with the pogues, serving all the kook kids, then partying with the kooks on the weekend. It was a strange balance. “I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

“I thought there were just two. Rafe, when we came to visit summer after freshman year, didn’t your dad say that we needed to stay away from that one side of the island with the pogues -”

“I don’t remember.” Rafe interrupted quickly, then spared a glance at Sophie and hated the way her face fell. “I don’t think he said that. Can we figure out what to do today?”

Oblivious as ever, Colin furrowed his brow. “No, I think I remember that too, he was joking a lot about it -”

“He wasn’t joking.” Sophie muttered, suddenly sullen as she felt a pit form in her stomach.

“It doesn’t matter.” Rafe replied, firm, and shot both the boys a pointed look.

Julia and Allie had been subjected to Sophie’s worries about money and fitting in with Rafe time and time again, and knew exactly how she felt at the moment. Allie took Sophie’s phone back from James, pulled up the browser, and cleared her throat. “Alright. Three board rentals for $30, I figure we can all pair off? Pick them up at eleven so we have time to eat breakfast?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.” Julia chimed in, slipping past Sophie and squeezed her shoulders in a reassuring gesture before opening the fridge. “James, can we do omelets again? Colin, you’re on toast duty?”

“But I -”

“Colin.” Julia sent him a glare and threw the loaf of bread toward him, narrowly missing his head. “Toast.”

“She gets one embroidered apron in a PR package and suddenly she’s queen of the kitchen.” James quipped, bumping Rafe out of the way with his hip and pulled out the pan, spatula, and whisk, prepared.

“Exactly, I’m glad you understand.” Julia grinned.

Rafe moved closer to Sophie’s side, leaning down to murmur in her ear. “You good?”

“M’ fine.”

He rolled his eyes and took her hand, pulling her out of the kitchen and down the hall to the foyer. “Soph. Talk to me.”

“I said, I’m fine -”

“And I know damn well that means you’re not actually fine -”

She huffed and caught a glimpse of the giant chandelier behind him as she looked up to meet his gaze, and was finding it harder and harder to conceptualize the place as his house rather than just a vacation home of a friend’s. “You haven’t told the boys about The Cut? Pogues, kooks, all that? That I’m not like you?”

“Of course not, Sophie, that doesn’t matter to me.” He frowned, taking both her hands in his. “Besides, I didn’t think it was my place to share.”

“Oh.” She sighed, stepping forward and dropping her head to his chest. “Sorry, I just - I’m trying to be chill.”

“You have been. We’ve been good.” He nudged her chin up, catching her eye. “Haven’t we?”

“Yeah, yeah, just - I took a wrong turn this morning, found myself down some hallway and in some office, and there was this giant painted portrait of your family behind the desk, and -” She forced herself to take a breath. “It’s a lot. You looked like fucking royalty.”

He nodded slowly in understanding. “Oh. Yeah. That’s my dad’s office, uh...there’s a reason I didn’t give everyone the full house tour.” He rubbed the back of his neck, giving her a sheepish smile. “The guys would give me so much shit for that.”

“You’re not, like...embarrassed of me, right? Like how I grew up?” She asked before she could think, uneasy as her stomach twisted in knots.

“Sophie.” He frowned, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. “You really have to ask that?”

“No, sorry, no. I know you’re not. Just - agh.” She screwed up her face in concentration, frustrated. “It’s me. I’m sorry.”

“Just try not to stress so much about it, okay? You’re the only one worried about it.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Thanks, Rafe, I’m cured.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed at her shoulder gently, making her smile a little. “I want you to be comfortable with me, angel.”

“I am!” She flexed her hands, frustrated. “That’s the thing. I am, with you. Not...you.”

He furrowed his brow. “Now I’m confused.”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

James rounded the corner, yelling out before he reached them. “Yo! You two done making out yet?”

Sophie sent Rafe an exasperated look before crossing her arms, turning to James. “We weren’t -”

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t care. C’mon, your breakfast is ready and I know Rafe throws up if he has to eat cold eggs.”

“It was one time -”

“One time is enough.” James shuddered, thinking back to freshman year. Rafe had gotten a little too cocky with the pledge masters during their hazing and was forced to eat five cold scrambled eggs in front of the whole pledge class, after he’d already had his fair share of alcohol to drink, and it didn’t end well. He extended his hand to Sophie, grinning. “Sophie, doll, breakfast awaits.”

“I hate you.” She replied with a straight face, but took his hand anyway and let him pull her back to the kitchen.

He laughed, glancing back at Rafe following them and winked at him before kissing the top of Sophie’s head. “Love you too. I need a wingman tonight at the bars, you got me?”

“I thought that was Colin’s position.” She shoved him away, taking her plate and sitting at the bar with the rest of the group.

“Yeah, well, Allie’s the only one that’s been getting some this entire trip, so -”

“But -” Colin started, only for Julia to stomp on his foot under the table, hard. She forced a grin, thankful Sophie was oblivious.

Sophie furrowed her brow but nodded, pouring herself a glass of juice. “Yeah. I got you.”

“Excellent. You know what, everyone should get laid tonight. If they want to.” James declared, shooting a meaningful glance at Colin.

“If you lay a finger on Julia again, I’m cutting off your balls in the middle of the night.” Sophie replied calmly, staring James down over the top of her glass as she took a sip.

Julia pretended not to hear, keeping her eyes intently trained on her plate. She’d considered Sophie’s feelings for the briefest of seconds last night, but then James was kissing down her neck and his fingers were slipping under the waistband of her shorts and - yeah. It may have slipped her mind. She was a little preoccupied.

“Sophie.” Rafe reprimanded, affronted. “Be nice.”

“Yeah, be nice or you’ll be the only one not getting some tonight.” James teased, smirking when Sophie gave him the death glare across the table.

“Jesus Christ, you guys fight like siblings.” Allie mumbled, rolling her eyes. “Let it go already.”

“Thank you.” Rafe affirmed, shaking his head. “I need everyone to be packed tonight, we’ll need to be on the plane tomorrow by 9am.”

“I thought the beauty of having your own plane meant we didn’t have a schedule.” Colin asked.

“...No. You can’t just fly it whenever, you have to tell people. And my dad needs it later tonight, he’s going to New York.”

“I didn’t realize he went there that often. That’s kind of nice though, right? You’ll be able to see him more when you and Sophie move?” Julia asked unknowingly. Sophie had told both the girls that Ward was an asshole, but didn’t say much more, just that Rafe still worked for him a lot. (She figured anything more was Rafe’s business and he could tell them if he wanted.)

Everyone else stayed quiet and Sophie froze, halfway to shoveling a forkful of omelet into her mouth. Rafe was stiff and his smile was forced as he nodded, not daring to look in Sophie’s direction. “Yeah. He does business there sometimes, so. I’ll see him around.”

James pushed away from the table, making everyone wince as the chair squeaked against the floor. “Okay, I’ll dry if someone else washes the dishes. Then I vote we hang out at the beach, last chance before we get to go back to Ohio - and I’m pretty sure it’s only forty-five degrees today back home.”

Julia looked around, confused at the abrupt topic change, and mouthed to Allie - did I say something wrong? - only for Allie to shake her head surreptitiously, glancing toward Sophie.

“Beach sounds good.” Colin nodded, standing and taking everyone’s plates to the sink. “Allie, can you confirm those board rentals?”

“Yeah, I got them.” She stood too, getting up to help with the dishes.

Julia frowned, lowering her voice so only Rafe and Sophie could hear. “Rafe, I didn’t mean to -”

“No, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it.” Rafe shrugged it off easily. “Seriously.”

Sophie exhaled, nudging her knee against Rafe’s under the table before she got up and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then ruffled his hair. “Love you.” She murmured as she grabbed his plate.

He smiled back, tugging gently at the hem of her (his) t-shirt before she busied herself in the kitchen with the rest of the group.

Julia watched the exchange with a furrowed brow. “Is she good?”

“Hm?” He replied absentmindedly, moving his gaze from Sophie to Julia.

“She’s okay? Earlier, with James and Colin asking…”

“Oh. Yeah, we’re good, I think. Probably just ready to go home to normalcy, you know?” He paused. “Are you gonna tell her about last night?”

“I probably have to...right?”

“Yeah. I think it’s better coming from you, rather than the boys.” He offered a teasing smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk her down from homicide.”

Julia groaned, covering her face with her hands. “She’s gonna hate me.”

“She won’t.” He promised. “You two are consenting adults, it’s maybe not the smartest decision you two have ever had, but. She can’t be that mad.”

“Have you met your girlfriend?” She raised her eyebrows back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her let go of a grudge.”

Rafe smiled, pointing to himself as he shook his head. “Ever?”

“You don’t count. None of those arguments were real.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious. You’d know.” She shook her head, smiling fondly. “Freshman year, this guy was being a little too touchy with me, hanging around a little too much at a frat party - she went and found his big brother and when he didn’t do anything, she threw a drink in the guy’s face.”

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “She what?!”

“Yeah. I know way too many incriminating details about her.” Julia nodded with a grin.

Sophie came back to the table, curious. “What are you two gossiping about?”

“Nothing.” He dismissed, waving his hand and got up, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “C’mon, let’s go get ready.” He mumbled something in her ear, making her blush.

Julia raised her eyebrows, watching as Rafe tugged her down the hall, hand in hand. “Don’t be late, you two!”

“Never!” Sophie called back, giggling.

______

After an attempt at surfing and hours of lounging in the sun, the group finally made it to dinner. Rafe had insisted they go to the nicer restaurant for their last day, making everyone dress up just a little more, and was happy everyone complied with the dress code he suggested when they had all packed.

When his phone pinged, again, he huffed and fished it out of his pocket. His dad had texted him five times within the last hour, making sure he would remember to be on the runway at a certain time, and that the airport security needed to be paid in cash, like usual, and that he left enough of a tip for the maids before they left, and - yeah. It was a lot. He was surprised when he saw a text from his screenwriting professor from the previous semester instead, with three words - check your email.

“Your dad again?” Sophie murmured quietly, resting her hand on his knee.

“No…” He trailed off as he opened his email and found that his screenplay had been one of two chosen to be produced for their final semester. He had a meeting next week with his professor to start working out logistics, casting and choosing a production team. “Oh. Wow.”

“What is it?”

He smiled, hesitant, and tilted his phone toward Sophie. “Um, the screenplay thing. Mine got picked.” He shook his head, in disbelief as he smiled wider. “Holy shit, mine got picked.”

“Rafe!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and smacking a kiss to his cheek.

James perked up, leaning next to Sophie to read the phone too. “You got it? For real?”

“I got it.” He confirmed, now grinning ear to ear. The phone was passed around the table so everyone could read the email and everyone congratulated him, making his cheeks turn red as he beamed. Julia ordered a round of shots almost immediately. He had made the boys read it over at least five times each, for proofreading before he submitted it, then once he gave a copy to Sophie, she’d made the girls read it too because she was so proud.

“This is the one where you confess your love to her like twelve times over?” Colin asked.

“Yeah, remember, Rafe, the characters hated each other in the first draft? And then you changed the girl’s name to Sloane one day, wherever the fuck that came from -” James added, oblivious to the growing smirk on Sophie’s face.

She leaned closer, raising her eyebrows. “When was that changed?”

Rafe’s blush spread to his ears now, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t remember. It’s not important, anyways -”

“I think it was barely September -“ James supplied helpfully, yelping when Rafe kicked him under the table. “Hey!”

Julia grinned. “You changed it to her middle name in only September? Weren’t you still fighting then?”

“I didn’t know -” He started to defend himself, only for Allie to roll her eyes.

“Oh, okay, you just happened to change it to that of all names. Sure, we believe that.”

Julia laughed once she caught Sophie’s eye and her extremely pleased expression. “She’s had a crush on you since high school, anyways -”

“I did not -” Sophie instantly retorted, ignoring the smug grin Rafe wore. “She’s lying.”

“I’m not. Jesus, Sophie, you two could have saved yourself all that arguing and just been together, you two are dumb.”

“Wait, you’ve liked me for that long?” Rafe cocked his head, oblivious.

“Oh my god, you two are blind.” Allie giggled, accepting the tray of shots from their waitress and passed them around. “Here, everyone - congrats, Rafe.” She lifted her shot and everyone else clinked theirs together, then took it at once.

The rest of the night was a blur for everyone, but especially Rafe. He kept taking other people’s shots on accident and sucked down any drink presented to him with a straw, but absolutely refused to hydrate normally (Sophie resorted to giving him vodka waters at the end of the night just so she could keep him upright). He kept an arm slung around her shoulders or waist the entire night, not letting her out of his sight for a single second.

“Baby, please stop leaning.” Sophie told him with an exasperated tone, pushing at his shoulder for the fifth time that night.

“I love you so much.” He replied, bright-eyed with a grin. “So damn much.”

“Okay. Stand up straight.”

“I am.”

James ambled back to the two of them and ducked in between them so Rafe’s arm was around his shoulders instead, taking the weight off of her for a moment. “Jesus, Cameron, lay off the drinks.”

“He’s fine, he’s celebrating.” Sophie smiled, patting Rafe’s cheek affectionately.

“Enabler.”

She shrugged. “So be it. Where have you been?”

“Trying to talk with some girls.” He supplied, nodding his head toward Colin with the same group. “Apparently they’re more into nerds.”

“The one time in your life you’ve failed to score.” She teased, batting his hand away as he went to flick her.

Rafe leaned into James, resting his head against his. He had a few inches on him, making it just comfortable enough. “James. Guess what.”

“What, bud.”

“I’m gonna marry Sophie.”

“Yeah, dude, we know.”

“No. Tonight.”

James snorted. “Yeah, okay. I feel like you’re gonna be out within the hour.”

Rafe ignored him, eyes scanning across the crowd. “Where are our girls?”

Sophie beamed, loving how he’d adopted her friends as his own. “I think Julia’s just getting guys to buy her drinks and Allie’s hovering around so she can benefit.”

“Julia definitely had some guy’s tongue down her throat earlier.” James confirmed. “I told him to fuck off.”

“Does she need help?” Rafe frowned, handing his drink to Sophie and straightening up like he was going to go hunt for her.

“No, she’s fine.” James nodded toward Colin, Julia and Allie all coming back toward them.

Sophie looped her arm back around Rafe’s waist, taking his weight again, and intercepted a drink that Allie offered to him. “No more. You guys having fun?”

“Yeah, a couple guys might be coming over to join us later.” Julia informed them casually. “Rafe, you good with that? I won’t show them any of your fancy shit.”

“Uh...yeah. That’s fine.” He cocked his head. “Wait, a couple? Just for you?”

“No, me and Al.” At Colin’s affronted look, she shook her head quickly. “Not at the same time!”

“Wait, no, we’re busy tonight.” Rafe shook his head and smacked a kiss to Sophie’s temple. “We’re getting married.”

Colin widened his eyes. “You’re what?”

“We’re not!” Sophie amended quickly, pinching Rafe’s side. “We’re not. He’s hammered.”

“She doesn’t wanna marry me ‘cause she’s scared of my dad.” Rafe informed them, his expression a little too serious for it to be a joke. “It’s true.”

“Okay. I think you need to go home.” She pursed her lips. “Are you guys staying, or…?”

“Family sticks together!” Rafe exclaimed, looping his arm around Colin. “We’re all going home. Did someone pack a white dress?”

“Rafe, we are not getting married.” Sophie sighed, exasperated. “Not tonight.”

“But I have the ring.” He protested, making the whole group stop in their tracks.

Julia nearly choked on her drink, mid-sip. “You what?!”

Rafe held up his hand and slid his pinky ring off his finger, the only one that barely fit Sophie’s thumb. “See? I have a ring.”

“Oh my god.” Allie breathed out, shaking her head. She stepped around him and strode forward out of the club, knowing he’d follow. “Hey! Come on. We’re going home.”

Sophie just stared at Rafe blankly, not following the rest of the group until James gave her a little shove from behind. “Chill out, Flint, I’m not gonna let him propose like that.”

She shook her head to get herself to snap out of it, laughing weakly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“No panicking.”

“I’m not - just. Jesus. Okay. He says that so easily.” She mumbled, walking out with James behind the group.

He laughed, nodding. “Of course he does. It’s Rafe. He loves hard.”

“Yeah.” She smiled to herself, twisting her ring on her finger. “He does.”

Once they all made it home, after some convincing on Allie’s part with the taxi driver and a little extra cash thrown in from Rafe, James and Colin helped wrestle Rafe into their bedroom. (They made the mistake of looking the other way once and he took off across multiple lanes of traffic, convinced he needed to go rescue the kitten that was on the other side of the road - it was actually a crumpled paper bag.)

“Okay. He’s your problem now.” Colin brushed off his hands for emphasis, swatting Rafe’s hand away as he went to tug on Colin’s shirt. “There’s no way he’s getting anything up, so sleep is probably your best option.”

Sophie blushed, running her hands over her face. “Great, I needed to hear that. Helpful.”

“Fuck you, Colin.” Rafe slurred, flipping him off.

“Mature.” James commented, kissing the top of Rafe’s head, then Sophie’s, before turning to leave. Any other time it would be weird, but she’d gotten used to his drunk affectionate state. “Night buddies!”

“Night! Love you!” Rafe called after him and Colin as they left and shut the door behind them. He turned his gaze to Sophie, smiling goofily at her. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, baby.” She replied, glad he was compliant as she tugged off his shoes and socks, and shirt too. “Can you take off your shorts for me?”

“You can take ‘em off.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

She rolled her eyes, having to shove a little, but finally succeeded to strip him down to his boxers. “Okay. Will you come brush your teeth?”

Without a warning, he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, meeting her in a full-force kiss, hands roaming.

“Hey!” She squealed, shoving at his chest out of instinct. “Watch the hands, Rafe.”

He immediately dropped them to her sides, nudging his nose against hers. “I love you.”

“Love you too. I’d love you more if you would brush your teeth.”

“Dental hygiene is that important to you?” He skimmed his palm up her back, teasing his fingers along the zipper down the back of her crop top. “You should be naked right now.”

“Cameron.” She warned.

“Not my name.”

“Rafael.”

“Sophieeeee.” He whined, pouting. “Say my name for real.”

She rolled her eyes and kissed along his neck, resisting a laugh when he so easily melted to putty beneath her. “Rafe. Asher. Clifford. Cameron.”

“Sounds like I’m in trouble.” He mumbled, unzipping her crop top and hummed in satisfaction when she slipped her arms out of the skinny straps, letting him toss it aside. “I don’t like that.”

“Baby?” She murmured, sucking a small spot at the base of his neck before returning to kiss his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s not nice.” He frowned. “Be nice to me.”

“No.”

“You have to be nice to your boyfriend, angel, it’s the rules.”

“I’ve never heard these rules.” She countered, pushing him back against the bed. “I don’t think I got the rulebook when we started dating.”

“Because you hated me when we started dating.” He argued, flopping back against the mattress. “Are we gonna have sex?”

“Can you stay awake long enough?”

He nodded enthusiastically, reaching up to palm her breast. “Yeah. I got you. I’ll make you come, like, five times.”

She snorted, tugging off her skirt and pushed it aside. “I don’t think you’ve ever made me come five times. Maybe three, but that’s it.”

“What? No. That’s not right. You definitely have - like, in Nice or something -”

“Nope. I would remember.” She rolled off of him to pull off her underwear and toss it on the floor, then laughed as he rolled on top of her, frowning.

“I totally have, Sophie, come on. You’re lying. I can get you off.”

“Yeah, but not five times. That’s so long, Rafe.” She argued, grinning as he ran his hands down both her arms before pushing them above her head, one large hand encircling both her wrists.

“I’ll show you five times.” He argued, glancing around the room, unfocused. “Where’s some string?”

“You are not tying me up with string, Rafe, pay attention.” She arched her back a little, practically shoving her chest in his face to get him back on track. He nodded, dropping his hand down to her hip and skated his teeth across her nipple, loving the moan it elicited from her. She curled her fingers into his hair, sighing when he left open-mouthed kisses across her chest.

He hummed, his head bobbing a little and his eyelids fluttered as he felt her nails rake across his scalp. “More.” He mumbled.

“Yeah?” She replied, scratching his head a little more and had to bite back a laugh when he rested his head on her chest for a moment, then pressed lazy kisses against her skin. “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

“M’not, just...resting.” His breathing slowed and he reached one hand up to cup her breast, though the way he did it felt more like he was holding it for emotional support than to turn her on.

“Rafe.” She whispered, squirming underneath him. “Get off.”

“Shh.” He nuzzled a little closer, relaxing his full body weight into hers. “Nappin.’”

“Are you fucking -” She sighed, pushing him just enough so he rolled onto his back. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

“No, no, I’m ready.” He mumbled without opening his eyes, gesturing loosely to his lap. “See.”

She rolled her eyes and tugged on a pair of underwear and a big shirt of his that she’d packed, then leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You’re not even close to hard.”

“No...what’sit you say?” He squinted one eye open to look at her. “Have at me?”

She just laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll be back.”

“Sophie, baby, Sophie.” Rafe repeated, grabbing at her arm. “You gotta stay.”

“I’m just getting you water, Cameron, I’ll be right back. Promise.” She slipped her arm out of his loose grip and pressed a kiss to his forehead, smiling at the way his lips turned up in a dopey smile back. “Stay here.”

“Okay. Be safe!” He called out.

She shook her head and went out to the kitchen, grabbed two water bottles and returned to the room not five minutes later to see him fast asleep, snoring softly with his phone in his hand, screen still shining bright. She rolled her eyes and pried his phone away, then paused as she saw the screen - he’d just donated $5,000 to the local animal shelter in Columbus. This wasn’t an entire unusual occurrence - she’d seen a couple emails in his inbox here and there thanking him for a donation, but never this much. “Holy shit. Rafe.” She nudged him, trying to wake him up. “Rafe.”

“Mm?” He grumbled, rolling back over.

“Did you mean to do this?” She showed him his phone screen. “Five thousand?”

“Uh huh.” He reached over and wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to pull her into bed. “Come sleep.”

“You’re sure? You didn’t mean, like, $50? Or even $500?”

He pouted, lip wobbling a little as his eyes began to water. “Baby, all those animals are in there on the cold floor, and they don’t have homes -”

“Oh, honey -”

“No, no, listen. They don’t have homes, and it’s not fair, but if they get more money they take away their adoption fee, and then they can have a home.” He stared her down seriously as a couple tears slipped down his cheeks. “They need homes, Sophie.”

She nodded, taking a seat at the edge of the bed and stroked her thumbs over his wet cheeks. “Yeah, sweet boy. They need homes.”

“I hope Josie’s okay.” He yawned, moving to rest his head on her lap.

“Josie?”

“She’s five, and she’s a very sweet yellow lab, and good with other dogs and people, and she’s been at the shelter since July,” he recited from memory. Rafe had checked the website at least every two weeks and had found himself attached to this one dog for reasons he couldn’t explain, even going as far as buying her toys from the shelter’s Amazon wishlist. He absolutely knew he couldn’t visit, because he’d be taking her home in an instant. When he’d been looking for apartments in New York for them, he found himself selecting pet friendly as a search option - just in case.

“Oh. Okay.” She murmured, a little confused as she stroked his hair. “I’m sure she’s alright, Rafe. Will you drink some water for me? Or at least take your contacts out?”

He blinked hard, rubbing his eyes until his contacts popped out, and set them on the nightstand. Sophie resisted a scowl. He slipped his hand under her shirt and held her tight, palm splayed flat against her ribcage. “G’night.”

“Night, baby. I love you.”

“Sophie.”

“Yeah, Rafe?” She settled in against him, pulling the covers over them both.

“Marry me.”

She laughed, rolling back over to nudge her nose against his. “No.”

He yawned, not bothering to open his eyes. “Please?”

“Later. Now we’re sleeping.” She kissed him softly, smiling as she whispered. “Sweet dreams, favorite boy.”

“Love you.” He mumbled back, barely coherent before falling asleep.

____

The next morning, he was all too smug as he woke Sophie up, blindly reaching for her in bed and pulled her close against his chest. “Baby.”

“No.” She grumbled, pulling the pillow over her head as she tried to wriggle away.

“Soph.” He tried again, holding her tight as he pressed kisses against her hair. “Sophieee.”

“I’m tired, Rafe, fuck off.” She sighed, frowning up at him as he grabbed the pillow and tossed it to the floor. “Hey.”

“Tired from last night, huh?” He smirked, trailing a finger down the center of her chest, down her stomach. “Sore?”

Sophie rolled over to look him in the eye, eyebrows raised. “Sore from what?”

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

“C’mon.”

She furrowed her brow at him, confused. “Rafe, you fell asleep holding my boob. You weren’t even hard.”

“Huh?” He cocked his head, sitting up a little. “But we...did I dream that? The navy lace?”

She laughed, loud. “I don’t own navy lace anything.”

“Well, shit, we gotta buy you something.” He ran his hand through his hair, still a little confused as Sophie smiled up at him and fixed his messy hair, sitting up to straddle him. “Really? We didn’t do a thing? I swore, you were, like, having the time of your life.”

Sophie shook her head, placing both hands on his chest as she shifted forward a little. “No. You left me high and dry. Glad dream-me could get something though.”

Rafe quickly picked up on her cues, his hands going to her hips to steady her. “I think I can help fix that.”

“I think you can too.”

Just as she leaned down to kiss him, James pounded on their door, thankfully being smart enough to not barge in. “Yo! We’re leaving in an hour! Do you want breakfast?”

“Fuck off!” Sophie yelled, rocking her hips against Rafe’s. “We’re busy!”

“Busy packing, I hope!” James called back.

“He’s packing!” She replied with a giggle, laughing harder when Rafe quickly clasped his hand over her mouth and shushed her.

“We’re not hungry!” Rafe yelled, pinching Sophie’s side. “Leave us alone!”

She squealed, batting his hand away and couldn’t help but laugh as James’s footsteps faded away. “What, I’m not allowed to brag about you?”

“We don’t have time for you to brag.” He replied, wrapping a strong hand around the back of her neck to pull her into a bruising kiss. “C’mere.”

“How much do you remember of last night?” She asked in between kisses, leaning back just enough to pull off her shirt.

“Not much.” He flipped them over, then leaned down to graze his teeth over her nipple.

“You asked me to marry you.” She breathed out, a little wary of his reaction. “Multiple times.”

“I did? I’m a smart man.” He replied with a smirk, trailing his fingers up her inner thighs.

“You are.” Sophie moaned quietly, then pressed her hips up. “Just get inside me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive, Rafe, please, I gotta shower and pack.”

He laughed, loud. “Sure we have time?”

“Rafe Cameron, I swear to fucking god -”

He laughed, cutting her off with a kiss. “I got you, baby. Always got you.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46 @outerbankies

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfic #rafe x sophie #mine #college rafe #frat rafe

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heyitsyn · 4 years

Text

Prince Iwa-Chan

Oikawa!Sister x Iwaizumi Hajime

a/n: it aggravates me that my mans bara-arms-iwa-chan is so UNDERRATED!!!!

requests open!!

like look mom, im in love

ofc youre an oikawa

tbh, i dont think iwa wouldve been comfortable w you when yall first met

lets say youre a year younger than tooru

its a well-known fact that theyve been friends since they were really young so you, being oiks’ baby sister, was also part of your little trio

like lets say they met when they were 6

that would make you about 5

since yall have an older sister, you were exposed to the girly girl stuff like dolls and princesses

ngl, tooru was too thats why hes so flamboyant

but seems his fashion style refutes that

ya didnt hear that from me

anyways

tooru had already developed a deep fascination w volleyball bc he saw it being played during the 2000 summer olympics

but you remained w your sister and continued letting her treat you like a princess

im not really sure how old his sister is but lets say she was about around middle school when you were 5-6

however, tooru still made you play w him even though you didnt know how but you didnt care bc you were close w your brother so you would play ball w him

then came along iwaizumi hajime that tooru met from school

he found out that this boy also liked volleyball and tooru yeeted them both home so they could go and play at the back yard

you peeked from your window and you just thought iwa was the most handsome boy youve ever met

ofc, you just bolted down the stairs to where your brother and his friend was

oiks saw you standing by the door w a red face and him, being still a child and not understanding crushes, thought you were sick

he went to you and beckoned hajime to follow him inside

tooru sat you down and asked if you were okay but you just kept staring at hajime

he figured that you were just confused as to who this person was

‘oh! iwa-chan! this is my little sister, y/n! y/n, this is my classmate, iwaizumi hajime!’

cue iwa hitting him at the head

‘i can introduce myself perfectly fine, bakakawa!’

iwaizumi hajime,,,

iwaizumi hajimeee,

iwaizumi y/n

that thought made you turn even redder and you squealed in embarrassment before running back to your room

lmao what

if your personality doesnt align w this, i deeply apologize

i just think if you were an oikawa, you would bound to immediately also be drawn to this handsome specimen named iwaizumi hajime

he be getting the oikawas though

iwa was actually concerned but oiks waved it off

‘don’t worry, iwa-chan. shes weird like that. lets go toss the ball!’

so that was kinda how he met you

now, since hajime basically lived in your house by how much him and your brother hung out, youve slowly mellowed out and gotten to be friends w him

despite your hatred w bugs, you still went w them to explore just bc you wanted to be around hajime

lmao tooru youre now irrelevant

hajime didnt mind and he always made sure you were okay with the adventures of the day

even though you were only like a year younger, he cant help but baby you bc of your much smaller height than him and overall cute baby face

one day, they both came home from school all sweaty bc they raced home

‘iwa-chan! you can settle in the living room while i go shower!’

‘don’t call me iwa-chan, bakakawa!’

‘then stop calling me that!’

he sat down on the couch and started doing his homework when he heard you come home from school

lmao how do little japanese kids go back and forth from school to home at the age of 6

idek how to cross the street

‘tadaima’

‘oh, okaeri, y/n’

you perked up at his voice and you ran to the living room, seeing him

‘iwa-chan!’

he grunted and you threw yourself to him in a hug

if your personality doesnt align w this, i deeply apologize

i just think if you were an oikawa, you would bound to immediately also be drawn to this handsome specimen named iwaizumi hajime

part 2

tbh it doesnt even faze him anymore since you do this to him every time

he continues doing homework and just wraps one arm around you and starts patting your head

‘tooru-nii?’

‘shower’

‘okay’

then silence

but its the good kind of silence

you and iwa just sit there with you snuggled up on him while he continues to add numbers

then it was ruined

by the pterodactyl oikawa tooru who comes flying down the stairs and glomps on to iwa’s other side

‘y/n-chan! stop hogging iwa-chan!’

‘he’s mine, tooru-nii!!’

you pout while iwa turns and gives him a glare

‘shut up, bakakawa! and stop calling me that!’

‘aahh!! you were mine first, iwa-chan!’

‘i was never yours! be quiet!’

‘itai, iwa-chan!’

‘he’s mine forever! we’re going to get married so butt out, nii-chan!’

‘HAH?!’

once everything calms down, yall actually start your homework and work

‘anything happen today, y/n-chan?’

oikawa always asked that question bc he believes its his duty as older brother to be caught up in your life

thats actually annoying bruv

‘hmm, me and the girls in my class were playing princess tea party today and a boy asked to be my prince.’

‘WHAT!’

oikawa is 7 now and he faintly has an idea about crushes and his father made him promise that he would protect you from nasty boys

‘calm down, bakakawa’

iwa mumbled, continuing his homework but also paying attention

‘WHAT!? NO! WHATD YOU SAY, Y/N-CHAN! YOUR BROTHER IS THE ONLY PRINCE YOU NEED!’

‘i told him i already have a prince’

oikawa was so smug and crossed his arms

‘hm, serves them right-’

‘prince iwa-chan and i are going to get married and live in a castle so there’s no room for anybody else’

iwa had to double check and turned red really fast

like who was this iwa-chan

wait, what his name?

his name has iwa in it

is he iwa-chan?

y/n’s prince iwa-chan?

was he really iwa-chan?

‘NO! YOUR NII-SAN IS YOUR PRINCE! IWA-CHAN CAN BE YOUR KNIGHT OR SOMETHING! BUT IM YOUR PRINCE!’

you glared at tooru and shook your head

‘no. iwa-chan is my prince’

you were so shamless about this fact

lmao i want your confidence

from then on, youve called iwa as your prince

like his name on your phone is literally prince iwa-chan

then when you were in middle school, you’ve started calling iwa as haji-senpai

there wasnt even a large event that spawned this

well,,, actually,,

youve noticed that iwa hated the nickname ‘iwa-chan’ a lot and he hit tooru many times bc of it so you stopped calling him that bc you didnt want him to be mad at you

so you started calling him senpai bc he was technically an upperclassman

when you first called him this, iwa was lowkey shook

‘haji,,,, senpai?’

you nodded from your spot on the couch, not looking up from your homework

‘see? i can only call iwa-chan, iwa-chan! OOF!’

that was iwa hitting tooru at the face with his pencil case

‘y/n, you dont have to call me that. we’ve known each other since we were little so you dont have to call me by an upperclassman term’

you shrugged

‘i know. but you dont like it when you’re called iwa-chan, do you?’

‘not if it’s by this trash’

he jutted a thumb to the fallen tooru

‘so,,,, iwa-chan is fine?’

your eyes sparkled at the permission of being able to freely call him that without worry

he gulps at your face and turns away to hide his red face before nodding

‘my prince iwa-chan!’

‘no! my iwa-chan!’

‘shut up shittykawa!’

‘itai, iwa-chan!’

keeping up with the oikawas

this nickname will forever be stuck

since you went to the same middle school, you were known to be around your brother and iwa and even staying behind for practice to walk home w them

it became a bit of a joke to the team of you picking up your prince

one day, a teammate called iwa, ‘prince iwa-chan’ and he almost busted a fuse

was ready to square up bc only his babie can call him that

but when you came through the door

‘prince iwa-chan! your princess is here!’

he turned all soft and squishy and pats your head so gently that they couldnt believe this is the same boy who is the ace

you were interested in volleyball so you were kinda friends w the team but you didnt really care for the sport, mainly focusing on your academics

thats how it really was for you three

they focused on sports while you studied

oh my here comes highschool

oikawa and iwa were already known throughout the FREAKING PREFECTURE bc of how TALENTED THEY ARE AT VOLLEYBALL

and you were already known by your pretty face and your cute personality

basically genderbent oikawa

and just wanted to stop you from reading by telling you that you are beautiful and you are a KWEEN and you are a GODDESS and confidence is the most beautiful thing to wear and best of all, it’s free!!

ofc, youd have to go to aoba johsai bc your brother was there

‘y/n-chan! you need to go where your brother is! you love him, don’t you?’

‘sure, tooru’

you actually went to seijoh bc you would see iwa

you didnt hear that from me

your first day, boys (and gals) were already flocking towards you when they saw you walking with iwa and tooru

still being the overprotective brother since day1, oikawa was just snarling at anyone getting close to his baby sister

lmao what baby

hes only like a year older

but iwa was being terrirorial protective bc he finds it as an obligation as tooru’s best friend and your childhood friend

when oiks wasn’t paying attention and being drowned by his fangirls, iwa was your bodyguard

there was this one boy who started walking towards you as yall were going to your class but hajime placed an arm around your waist and pulled you closer

‘oh? i’m only at the first floor, iwa-chan. don’t get all clingy now’

lmao, girl hes trying to show that boy that hes your unofficial mans and will cut off his family jewels if he tries to even BREATHE in your direction

umm,,, iwa’s not yandere in this one yall

iwa just rolls his eyes and makes you walk forward until yall are at your door

‘i’ll see you later, iwa-chan!’

‘yea yea. i’ll pick you up’

he starts to walk down the hallway but you poke your head back out and shout

‘i miss you already, prince iwa-chan!’

he turns red all over and freezes for a 0.0002 seconds before raising a hand without turning around

now ladies and genitals

this is when iwa-chan starts to catch feelings like he catches them spikes

your cute smling face and saying his dumb nickname that he actually loves was like a recipe for a stroke for him

it has come to the point at the mere thought of you would make him all flustered and red

it tripled over when this happened:

puberty was kinda late for you and you actually just woke up looking like a goddess one day and you were like, lmao what

your chest just ballooned up and your height just skyrocketed that your skirt was now very short

ew i dont know what i would do in this situation

you were self-conscious about this and was kinda scared

obvs, you would scream for your mother and she and your father and brother bolts up to your bedroom thinking there was a whole michael meyers in your room

but when you explained that your uniform doesnt fit anymore, she starts making appointments to get you fitted for another one

but you had to wait for a few days

so you went to school looking like a whole snacc

more of a snacc than you did before

when iwa saw you, he had a literal nosebleed in the middle of campus and runs to the bathroom to get all cleaned up

why in the name of asahi do you look like that?!

when you saw your prince look at you in horror and run away, you cried

you were already very self-conscious and him doing that just topped the cake

cake that tooru doesnt have

oop imsorry

tooru reassures you that he had a nosebleed and he was just sick and ran to not get any blood on his clothes

but you just walked away with your head down low

it didnt matter to you if this caught all the student body’s attention

that their precious oikawa y/n, little sister of the oikawa tooru, was a walking perfection goddess Venus

all that you cared about was iwa’s opinions bc he was your prince and your best friend

girl, accept that you actually like the mans

this was the worst day of your entire life and you went straight to your locker to get your gym clothes out and wear it for the day

it was tight but at least it covered skin

and it still attracted enough attention to be catcalled and whistled at

it felt violating

the entire morning, there was more attention and more people flocked over to you and guys were staring at you as if you were a piece of meat, not a girl

‘harry potter is a boy! not a piece of meat!’

sorry i cant help it

you were so uncomfortable that you called your brother during lunch time to come pick you up for lunch bc you were too scared to walk alone after being catcalled during your walk to your class

tooru sends out iwa to go help you as an apology from this morning and he just runs to your class bc you were in trouble and he was going to protect you!!

go iwa-chan!

he finds you sitting on your chair, looking down at your desk as there seemed to be boys piled up on top of each other, trying to get your attention

first world problems, amirite

‘OI!’

that angry grunt but at 2x bass boosted

hearing his voice, you were still embarrassed from earlier but you were so relieved

‘iwa-chan!’

iwa pushes people away and he grabs your hand to pull you up before wrapping an arm around your waist, protectively

‘if i see you idiots making her uncomfortable or even trying to touch her, i will destroy you’

protection and the feeling of safety is my fave

he leads you out of there to the stairway where him and his teammates were eating

he held your hand tightly and you squeezed it, trying to show that you were grateful

even if they were still male, your brother was there and if something happened, they were both strong enough to take them on

besides, its just mattsun and maki anyways

tooru saw you and he hugged you before leading you to the 2 others

‘guys, this is y/n, my sister. that’s mattsun and that’s makki.’

you slightly smiled and raised a hand in greeting

‘yo’

‘hello’

to be safe, iwa made you sit a step down from him so that if something happens, he could protect you

idk how but you do you boo

‘i can protect her too, iwa-chan!’

‘shut up, shittykawa. youre literally sticks and bones’

‘so mean! iwa-chan, you’re so mean!’

you giggled, head leaning down to rest on iwa’s right thigh since you were full and tired and he runs his hand through your hair

mattsun and makki shared a look before asking

‘are you dating our ace, y/n-chan?’

at the mention of dating, you both turned red and you sat up

‘OF COURSE NOT, MATTSUN, MAKKI!’

iwa shouts but his red face and ears betrayed him

‘iwa-chan grew up with us so he’s naturally like that. we’ve adopted him into our family!’

oikawa explained but you looked at him and he gave you a knowing look

oh he noticed everything

the lingering looks during practice

the bashful smiles during hang outs at home

unnecessary touches during the walk to school

oikawa may be annoying but he’s observant and he is smart

after that fiasco, the two boys were a little wary of letting you walk home alone so iwa offered to take you since he was already making more progress and didnt need extra practice while tooru wanted to practice more

‘iwa-chan, can we go to your house this time?’

he turned to look at you curiously since you never ask to go to his place

‘i miss your mom and ive been meaning to go visit her. so can we, iwa-chan?’

you squeezed his hand and showcased your pleading look making him agree

‘fine’

his house wasn’t a frequently hung out spot since your house was closer but you were still familiar with his home since his mother was fond of you

‘tadaima’

mama iwaizumi peaked from the kitchen and greeted him home before squealing at the sight of the youngest oikawa

‘oh my, y/n-chan! hello!’

‘hello, auntie!’

she gave you a big hug and you returned it with a laugh

iwa just standing there to the side with a smile bc his mom approves so all is good in life

‘you’ve grown so much, y/n-chan! so much prettier too!’ you turned bashful at her compliments.

then she leaned forward to whisper in your ear but made her voice loud

‘say, has my son finally ask you to be his girlfriend?’

omg mama iwaizumi really ships it

iwa turns red and complains to his mom about being in his business too much

‘don’t be so timid, hajime! y/n-chan could be taken from under your nose any minute now!’

‘dont you think i know that’ he mumbles but very lowly so that no one hears him

but you decide to tease him more

‘no. but i’m waiting for it. i’ll tell you once he does, auntie!’

fed up with the teasing, he grabs you and drags you up to his room to change into comfortable clothing

you sit on his bed while he rummages through his closet for a sweatshirt and sweatpants

‘here! change into these!’ he shouts, still flustered and refusing to look at your eyes

youre an oikawa and you lived to tease so you stood up, tossing the clothes to the side and wrapping your arms around his neck

ooo gurl you want iwa to die today, don’t you?

he gets even redder and scowls

‘oi, y/n, what are you doing’

you shook your head

‘nothing. i just miss my prince iwa-chan. you were so brave for saving me today, prince iwa-chan’

the nickname used to not affect him that much but now, he watches the it fall from your cherry lips

‘say my name’

you furrowed your eyebrows

‘iwa-chan?’

he gently shakes his head no

‘my real name’

‘iwaizumi hajime’

you say, distracted at the way his mouth moves

‘and what’s yours?’

‘iwaizumi y/n’

you breathed out

he growls softly before taking your sinful lips

wowza jesus took the wheel bc he stepped on that pedal

we going straight 100 mph up in this bih

iwa really said, ‘skip the confession. imma go straight for my babie girl’s lips. also, proposal who? let’s go get married in vegas!’

it wasnt even been literally 15 minutes until you came bounding the stairs wearing hajime’s signature grey hoodie with his seijoh sweatpants and calling for your auntie to announce you were now dating are going to get married

‘WHAT!?’

she screams and comes running from the kitchen, holding a ladle

you flashed a grin while iwa shows a small smile with red cheeks from behind you before telling you that you were both too young to get married

‘i told ya you would be the first to know’

after dinner, you call your brother and hes like, ‘okay, since you’re not at home i’m assuming youre at iwa’s’

‘omgomgomg, nii-chan! i just had dinner with my boyfriend’s family! they accepted me!’

‘BOYFRIEND?! DOES IWA-CHAN KNOW!? HOW COULD YOU BREAK HIS HEART?!’

oikawa just has that special type of voice that even without being on speaker phone, it sounds like he is

iwa laughs at his friend’s worried questions

‘better hand over your princess to the prince, grand king’

oikawa screamed

i hope i did my mans justice

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