#ten x gn reader

[shroompette]

It took a while for you to notice. It was a small detail, really - though it's incredible that anything about your 6'10" behemoth of a boyfriend could ever be paired with the word "small". People would always only gape at his size, his mask, or truthfully, his package. It's not like you were any better.

It only dawned on you one quiet afternoon that you two were spending together. You sat comfortably in the armchair you claimed as "your spot", your boyfriend splayed out on the couch beside it, draped over the armrest so he could have his head in your lap while you stroked his long hair.

You averted your eyes from your latest literary obsession and your gaze softened as you regarded him. Despite his rather unappealing appearance, you thought he was the loveliest man in the world, with strong arms, chiselled back that curved oh-so-nicely when he laid on his front and-

Oh.

You arched your eyebrow as you realized that where König's ass was supposed to be, you found nothing. Zero altitude. You could land a helicopter on that piece of plain and the landing would be smooth as a butter.

How did you never notice this?

Perhaps because the front of him served as a good enough of a distraction from the criminal lack of backside.

You bite your lip, hesitant to say anything and disturb his peaceful sleep, but at the same time, you had to explore your discovery somehow. You reach for the mug of coffee on your table and carefully place it on his ass...

Flat. Like a stabbed tire. The coffee's surface remained perfectly still.

For a minute, König honestly thought he might have peed himself from fear when he was abruptly awoken by your loud, witch-like cackle, the brew spilling on his pants as soon as he moved.

Now your couch has a permanent stain and your boyfriend refuses to speak to you.

[planetkiimchi]

leave it to the poets | t.l

featuring: bf!ten x gn!reader

word count: 508 words

a/n: back from the dead!! just a li'l drabble because i was sick of doing my philosophy homework & @slytherinshua was complaining about the lack of ten fics 🙄

Ten looks up from his book, looking over at you settled on the other end of the couch. Far enough to have your own space, yet close enough for him to reach over, laying his head in your lap, snuggling into your warmth.

You gently pat him to get off, shifting to the middle of the couch where it’s cooler, and he jumps into talking about the new book he’s reading. It’s a fascinating study on the effect of hormones on “love”, he says.

The idea that love is a byproduct of hormones and not the emotional expression of affection is a concept completely foreign to you. You’ve always considered love to be the manifestation of emotions you feel towards people, or even things, that bring you comfort and joy.

To you, love is a very precious thing that is entirely emotional in nature.

However, the way Ten describes his book is completely different. Love is described as something biological in nature, related to the way your brain functions and the natural body processes that one goes through during puberty.

Hearing love being reduced to something so scientific and unemotional makes you sad. Your pout slowly turns into a frown as the forgotten sweater you’ve been making starts to fall, and Ten chokes on it as it smothers his face.

“Y/n! Are you trying to kill me?”

You shake your head quickly and keep the sweater away, focussing your attention on Ten.

His gaze softens when you look back at him. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh softly. “It just sounds so cold when you describe love like that. Why are we trying to make it scientific anyway? There are some things better left to the poets.”

“Like love?”

You nod. “Like love.”

Ten pushes himself up, his face just centimetres away from yours, staring into your eyes as if he’s deep in thought. Sometimes you wonder if, like people say, he can see into your soul from this angle. Maybe when the sun hits your irises just right, the light catches on all your thoughts and emotions, exposing them to the viewer just outside the window of your soul.

He hums, and you decide that you’re probably right.

“Then what is love to you?”

The eye contact between the two of you never breaks as you say seriously. “A conscious choice that we make, every single day, every waking minute. A choice to stay, when there are a million reasons that you should leave. A choice to keep searching, to keep looking for more to love and enjoy in the moment, with this person. To me, that is love.”

Ten’s eyes flutter shut, and he tilts your chin towards him in invitation. After a short pause, you close the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his.

As always, his lips are soft, like his cats’ fur. He smells like the jasmine-scented cologne you bought him for his birthday, and the scent of mint chewing gum lingers slightly on his breath.

Ten smells like home.

[hanasnx]

a call to you.

WC: 0.2k SUMMARY: the great protector has bonded with you. NOTES: i havent seen the movie. only the thirty minutes that tgp is in fucking shit up WARNINGS: m!dragon x gn!reader | mentioned: mate | no y/n

THE GREAT PROTECTOR has resided at the bottom of Ta Lo Lake for centuries. Entire civilizations have risen and collapsed while he sleeps within the icy depths. In the indigo darkness, he had heard a voice, as clear as if it were next to his ear, and he opened his great eyes. The first time he emerged from his cradle in lifetimes and he did it to follow your sound.

After he’d tracked you down, he brought you to a nearby cave where he’d built a nest for you. His claws having enclosed around you so gently as he carried you to your new home. Your protests and questions went unanswered for he cannot speak your language. The time you’d spend together aids in understanding him. You learn to crave his presence.

You’re no prisoner, you often walk to Ta Lo. It teems with bustling life, unlike your cave, so you socialize there. Everyone has noticed how quiet you’ve gotten, because you’re used to inhabiting a space where no words are needed.

On a rare occasion you’re visited, a friend timidly approaches the cave’s mouth. To soften its intimidation, you meet her, and beckon her inside. You prepare tea, and pour a drink for the Protector out of respect. It’s ceremonial, the way you draw near to him, kneel down to sit on your legs, and place the delicate cup onto the ground near his cheek. He won’t drink it, but you know he appreciates it. Steam rises from its hatch, and he eyes you gratefully.

You return to your friend, who catches you up on the events of her day. At one point, she advances on you with the intent to touch you. It’s a comfortable gesture, a hand reaching for your arm, but you have a preference of space, recoiling out of habit. The rebuke within you stirs the other resident of this cave. He rears his great head, pupils thinning as they set sights on her. She recedes in fear, and billow of angry fog expels from his nose, grating growls echoing off the stone walls. To calm him, you signal a wave to him, convey to him there is no danger. Your emotions are controlled, your friend meant you no harm.

“What was that?” your dear companion asks, bewildered and fit to gather her things to retreat in fright.

You offer her a kind smile as the Protector bows his chin to the floor behind you. Unfortunately, your explanation raises more questions than it answers, “Oh, he’s very sensitive. He thinks I’m his mate.”

[iicomet]

(rewrite-ish) part II

(In which he ponders over the final moments of his senior.) (ooc? chungmyung and gn!reader - third to second pov, angst.)

(tw! mention of blood, war.)

  In his blurred memories of blood and violence, he wonders where everything went wrong. 

  He wished it was just a simple, ‘oh, senior accidentally stumbled on their feet and landed on their face right in front of their enemies!’. But honestly, when had the gods ever favored him? If not him, when had the Gods ever favored his senior? He swore that perhaps the ever benevolent senior had wronged a deity in their past life, for their misfortune and their sufferings shouldn’t be given to a saint like them.

  Or maybe that stupidly kind senior took the blame of a friend and gained their curses instead. That sounded much more plausible, to be frank. He wished he could grumble about it, but a part of him wonders why his senior became like this. 

  Even if he wanted to, it’s not like he could ask them now.

  Chung Myung was no fool. He knew that in a war, there would be casualties, even if he was the strongest. It’s a dog-eat-dog kind of world out there, especially when the apex predator in this situation is the so-called heavenly demon Cheonma. In that situation, even him, who was renowned as the ‘plum blossom sword saint’, a person who would wreck others’ swords and pride easily with a single blow, felt like a mere rabbit struggling for survival. 

  It’s so, so tiring. It hurts so, so much.

 Chung Myung could feel his blood drip down his skin, mixing with his sweat and producing a disgusting smell he tried to ignore. If Senior was around, maybe they would swat him away with a disgusted expression, telling him to go clean up or something. They would pinch their nose and scrunch up their eyebrows, a deep frown decorating their usual calm and collected face. During those moments, it was times where he would either be a good junior brother and obey his senior’s requests, or he would annoy them and stick closer to them, earning several frustrated shouts and futile attempts to pry him off.

  He wonders, how his senior was managing? Someone as strong as them, would surely be able to fend themselves easily, right?

  Oh, how he wished he was right. 

  But then again, perhaps the uneasy expression in his senior’s eyes before they departed for the journey would have warned him about the impending doom and unsettling feeling he had ignored at that moment. He should’ve stayed, tried to ask his senior what’s wrong, and maybe even protected his senior who shielded the entire mount hua with only a foolish smile and a sword in hand.

  He really should’ve tried, even if he never managed to understand his senior. 

  When Chung Myung landed eyes upon his senior, he wished he could run towards them and block that swing. He wished that instead of fearing, he would’ve taken action instead. He wished that instead of shouting his senior’s name, he would’ve run and taken it for them. 

  Senior, why were you so stupid? Why did you only watch as the sword hits your chest, letting the tears you usually try to hold back flow down your cheeks? Why did the grip on your sword tighten as if you were going to war, yet your free hand tried to hold your opponent’s face, cradling it so softly as if they might break?

  Senior, you’re so stupid. He couldn’t see your attacker’s expression, but he knew it held no love, for the desperate and heart-broken eyes you showed clearly reflected their face. The emotions you always tried to reign in, rained down your features so clearly now. The eyes that used to glimmer brightly in the sun, the eyes he used to love staring at, the eyes he could get lost in—It reflected the face of a person who he held so much hatred towards. At that moment, perhaps he was also angry that you held so much love towards that ungrateful bastard who had struck you. But, it’s all useless now, right?

  Maybe you still had some sense in you when you raised your sword once more, realizing your duty and blocking off your feelings as if it was second nature. Once more, you showed your swordsmanship to the world, as if it was your final dance, your final performance before you’ve retired from the stage. Swords clashed against each other, the metal resounding across the stadium of your show as you replayed the tragedy of the eon. Light against dark, your determined expression faltering and revealing so much regret and pain. Chung Myung would’ve wondered what you regretted at that moment, for his entire life, you seemed as if you lived with no worries. But, he was no fool. He knew there were nights where you spent it alone, staring at the moon as if a lover had lost everything to the hands of fate.

  Senior, why did you smile at him when your heart was so heavy with pain?

  Even at that moment, where your life seemed to begin replaying before your eyes, you still smiled when you saw him, that same sheepish expression revealing itself whenever he caught you. 

  You whispered something to him, but he couldn’t hear it. He was too far, he always had been. And you, you had always walked too quickly for him to catch up. Not only him, you’ve always managed to outrun everyone else in Mount hua, always so far away from everyone else. Nobody could ever catch up to you. Nobody could ever understand you.

  Even so, he wanted to be the first. He wanted to be there for you, just like how you were to him. So, why didn’t you give him a chance? Why did you leave so soon? Just when he thought he was able to, it seemed that you were still so, so far away from him. You always managed to catch him, so why couldn’t he do the same for you?

  Senior, in your game of tag, can he play again with you soon? He promises he will try to catch you this time, so don’t leave so soon. He’s asking you politely, he swears he is. He wouldn’t be rude, he wouldn’t tease you and he wouldn’t smother you whenever you think he’s dirty. He’ll listen to you this time, so won’t you be a good senior and play again with him?

  Chung Myung ignores the rain falling down his skin as he begs for the Gods to give him a chance. He ignores the way his body moves on instinct as he battles across your destroyed theater, hoping for a chance to meet you halfway through. Yet when all he is met with is the aftermath of a war, your body nowhere to be found, he falls to the ground, utterly exhausted.

  Right, he had killed Cheonma.

  He wanted to celebrate this moment with you. But instead, he lies there lifelessly, his body too tired to do anything. Chung Myung thinks he heard your voice, calling out to him and he is reminded of the time where you would let him rest on your shoulder when he was tired, even if he was dirty. Stupid senior, you never really cared about it, didn’t you? All you wanted was for him to be happy. 

  But now, you have killed his heart. How could he be happy now? 

  He wants to rest on your shoulder once more, hear you hum a random tune as you ramble on about whatever that interests you. He wants to hear your voice once more, and this time he promises not to grumble about your nagging. He wants to feel your warmth against his skin once more, not the cold pile of body that lays beneath him. 

  Senior, he wants you to come back. So please, come home already.

[make-me-imagine]

Camera Roll: Shang-Chi celebrating Día de los Muertos with you

Camera Roll when spending Día de los Muertos with Shang-Chi

Requested by @youngcroissantturkeyworribler; hope you like it~

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Marvel+Shang-Chi Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovy-lady, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @gay-and-ready-to-cry, @flourishandblotts-inc, @spuffyfan394, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @cs-please, @soultrysworld, @a-lumos-in-the-nox, @creativitybeware, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @skylions-den, @dominos-palast, @pockyandme, @merlin-dahlia, @oliviah-25,

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Temple Run - Indiana Jones X GN Reader

Title: Temple Run

Indiana Jones X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Indiana Jones's father (Mentioned), Reader's father, Reader's mother (Mentioned), Monty Shaw (OC), Aaron Tucker (OC), Theo Black (OC), Michael March (OC) (Mentioned), Sallah, Fayah, Sallah's kids (Mentioned), and random people/men (Mentioned)

Requested by Anon (thank you so much for requesting! You know who you are ;) Sorry if it's a bit long. I got a bit carried away with this XD)

WC: 10,688 (I am so sorry)

Jawhara = Jewel | Habibi = Darling (Arabic)

Warnings: Human remains (mentioned), teasing, taunting, fighting (physically and verbally), enemies to friends to lovers, awkwardness, nervousness, embarrassment, movie references, yelling, insults, name-calling (nothing bad), death, Indiana Jones booby traps, sandstorms, knife/dagger mentioned, guns, killing, attempted murder, snakes, property damage, fear of heights, explosives mentioned, injuries, bruises mentioned, animal abuse (snakes don't like fire), blood, grenade mentioned, angst, cute, and fluff

Stacking the papers around you in a neat pile, you grabbed the last small stack, placing it away in its folder. You were hard at work, filing away reports and sending them to their respective departments. You worked at a federal government agency in Connecticut, and you were the head of your team; the captain of sorts. You worked as both a forensic scientist and a forensic archaeologist; both fields required extensive knowledge about osteology, human remains, and ancient civilizations. Back in school, you were considered a genius; your academic prowess far exceeded many of your classmates’ grades. As a graduate of Yale University with honors, you earned multiple offers of internships, but you declined every one of them; you enjoyed working alone and being on your own, but your father was adamant that you make some social connections. In fact, after some persuading, he got you a job where you were working now.

As you were filing yet another folder, a knock sounded at your office door, slowly the door opened; peeking their head in. "Uh, Doctor L/N, someone by the name of Mr. Shaw wants to speak with you." Your secretary, Ella, announced, making you look from your papers.

"Do they have an appointment?" You asked, voice monotone as Ella bit her lip.

"No, Doctor."

You sighed, dropping the papers as you rubbed your temple with your fingers. "Miss Hart, you know how I feel about walk-ins. They have to make an appointment to speak with me." You explained and Ella nodded, shutting the door, the click-clacking of her heels against the floor fading, only for it to come back more rushed as your office doors were slammed open. 

Shocked and wide-eyed, you watched as a man in the three-piece gray suit sauntered in like he owned the place; his cane hitting the ground with each step. The handle, gold and shiny, in the shape of an eagle's head. Beyond annoyed, you stood up from your desk, your hands placed firmly on it as you stared up at the man. "What's the meaning of you barging into my office?" You asked, anger evident in your tone as the man leaned back onto his heels with a smirk on his face.

"I just wanted to see if I could meet you." His voice was smooth and deep, "I've heard about your work, Doctor L/N. And might I say, I'm impressed." His British accent seemed to roll off of him like honey.

"And who might you be?" You asked, standing up straight as you clenched your fists.

The man in front of you adjusted the lapels of his jacket, before straightening his silk tie, "My name is Monty Charleston Shaw, and I have a proposition for you. Believe me, you'll want to hear it."

Staring at the man, you narrowed your eyes. Your mind was screaming at you to send him away, but your heart was curious. You've made up your mind. Gesturing to the chair in front of your desk, Monty sat down with a grin. "What's the proposition, Mr. Shaw?" You asked, sitting down in your own chair, your fingers fidgeting with the cold leather.

Monty cleared his throat, producing a creme envelope from the inside jacket pocket; sliding it towards you on your desk. "I have a special team heading to Egypt in two weeks to excavate the hidden remains of a forgotten prince. Prince Huaphris." He began, as you furrowed your eyebrows, opening the wax-sealed envelope to find a plane ticket inside. "It is said that Prince Huaphris was buried in a hidden tomb somewhere. My first team had unearthed a secret temple near the Nile, and we suspect he was hidden there. I need your expertise in finding Prince Huaphis and his treasure." He finished, leaving you intrigued, yet hesitant.

"Is this legit?" You asked, gesturing to the envelope, only for Monty to nod.

"Of course, Doctor. I'm certified by the board of the Smithsonian. Whatever we recover goes straight to the museum, and after, you'll be rewarded for your help."

You felt like a fish out of the water as you tried to speak, flabbergasted, "I don't really have the funds for a trip like this, Mr. Shaw. Especially one happening in two weeks."

Monty raised a hand, before placing it back on his cane. "Do not fret, Doctor. All expenses are covered. Flight to and from, hotel, and food. You'll be well taken care of."

You pursed your lips, "All expenses?" 

Monty nodded again, a grin on his face as you thought it quickly over. What did you have to lose?

"When does the plane leave?"

~~~

Walking out on the runway, you spot the private plane in the distance. Beside you, one of Monty's drivers was carrying your luggage. "This way, Doctor. Mr. Shaw is waiting for you." He spoke, as you notice Mr. Shaw and four other men with him.

Monty turned to you as you approached, hands clasping his cane as he grinned widely. "Ah, Doctor! Thought you'd changed your mind. I want you to meet part of the team." He spoke, gesturing to the four men.

"These two, Mr. Aaron Tucker and Theo Black. Mr. Tucker is an expert in ancient civilizations while Mr. Black is an expert in hieroglyphics." He spoke, signaling to a tallish man, you presumed was Mr. Tucker, with shaggy blonde hair. And, Mr. Black, a noticeable scar on his face, passing down his eyebrow and onto his cheek. "And this is Mr. Michael March, he's the photographer and journalist. He'll be taking note of everything that happens." Mr. Shaw spoke about the man with a camera around his neck, his circle glass slightly askew on his face, blue eyes piercing. "Lastly, we have Doctor Indiana Jones. Archaeologist. You may have heard of his work for the National Museum."

You turned to the famed doctor, giving him a once over with a slight frown, "Yes, I have." You said shortly, before turning back to Monty. 

Still grinning, Monty let out a laugh, "Well, let the journey begin. We have a long flight in front of us!" He spoke, before the five of you headed onto the plane.

Finding a spot near a window, you buckled and shuffled in your seat to get comfortable. You rubbed your thighs nervously, covered by your tan pants. You tried to dress as well as you could, knowing Egypt was going to be unbearably hot. You brought some sweaters for the cold nights, but for the sweating days, you brought tons of breathable shirts, pants, and your favorite pair of boots. You were about to read the book you brought with you, after all the trip was going to take forever, but you were surprised to see Indiana Jones sitting right across from you. You watched as he also got comfortable before he looked at you. You ignored his staring to go back to your book, feeling yourself getting dragged into the story before you heard him clear his throat. You looked up, eyes meeting his as he gave you a grin.

"So, you've heard of me, but I've never heard of you..." He trailed off, waiting for your name.

"L/N. Doctor L/N." You said, looking back down at your book.

Indiana's grin turned into a smirk, "Hmm, Doctor. I heard Shaw say that. What are you a doctor of, if I may ask?" He asked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat.

"I am a doctor of Forensic Science and Forensic Archaeology. Specializing in examining and analyzing evidence from crime scenes. And, I specialize in my archaeological skills to assist with the location and recovery of human remains... I got my PhDs at the age of twenty-two, so it wouldn't surprise me if you had heard of me. Doctor." You replied curtly, keeping your gaze glued to the book.

Indiana shrugged, "I guess so." He muttered under his breath as a smile played upon his lips. Indiana was intrigued. He wanted to know more about you. You were quick-witted, and obviously incredibly smart. A fact Indiana liked. But, you were stubborn and didn't seem willing to share anything that wasn't relevant to what you were doing. If it weren't for his curiosity, Indiana would have stopped talking to you already. But, he couldn't resist the pull of a good conversation.

After a few more minutes of silence, Indiana spoke up again, "So, L/N, do you have a first name?" He asked, making you glance up at him briefly before turning a page in your book.

"What could you possibly gain from knowing my first name, Doctor Jones?" You asked, raising a brow as he smirked.

"Call me Indiana, please." He requested, holding out his hand as he flashed a winning smile.

Hesitating for a moment, you slowly put your book down in your lap, "I'll stick to Doctor Jones. Now, tell me why you're asking so many questions?" Ignoring his request for a handshake.

Indiana dropped his hand to his lap, clearing his throat. Your dismissal of his handshake threw him off a bit. "We are going to be working with each other for two months. Might as well get to know a fellow Doctor." He smiled, leaning forward a little.

You nodded, thinking about what he said for a second before looking up at him again, "Okay, I suppose I can give you my name, but only if you answer me something, Doctor Jones."

His smile widened as he leaned back into his chair, "Alright, Doctor, shoot."

"Are you going to be exasperating me the entire trip?"

Indiana let out a laugh, "Exasperating? After I find out your name, I'm taking a well-deserved nap."

You raised your book back up, covering your mouth as you hid your light smile, "Names Y/N."

Indiana sat back with a grin, satisfied. "Y/N." He tested your name out, only for you to look up at him with your tired, half-lidded eyes.

"Doctor L/N to you, Doctor Jones." You corrected, watching as Indiana just hummed, leaning his head back and placing his hat over his eyes.

"Doctor L/N it is then."

~~~

Clutching your seat's armrests as the plane jolted around slightly as it landed, you let out a sigh as you closed your book, slipping it into your brown leather satchel. Looking across from you, Indiana was still sleeping, his hat covering his eyes; chest softly rising up and down. Rolling your eyes, you stood up, leaning over to flick the rim of his hat up, waking him suddenly. Indiana gave you a glare as you just ignored him, grabbing your suitcase and leaving the plane. Stepping down the steps, you breathed in the air, smiling at the world around you. You haven't been to Egypt in a long time.

Rushing over to you, Monty gave you a smile, "Doctor, the vans will take you to the hotel. We only have three, so you'll have to double up. If you don't mind." He added, glancing over at the vans that awaited you.

"Of course not." You responded, grabbing your suitcase and walking towards the car. Once you arrived, you climbed into the backseat and sat down, putting your suitcase at your feet. "How long will it be until we reach Cairo?" You asked the driver, as he adjusted the rear-view mirror.

"Less than an hour."

You nodded and sat back, only to see the door beside you open, watching in dismay as Indiana took a seat next to you. 

"Great. The other vans weren’t good enough for you, Doctor?" You mumbled irritatedly, as Indiana sat his own suitcase at his feet.

Indiana gave you a grin, "Well, Doctor, Mr. Shaw, and the photographer already claimed a van while those other two took the other."

"How wonderful." You replied sarcastically as the van began to move. You turned to face your window, watching the sandy dunes slowly turn into sandstone buildings and houses. Soon, the van stopped in front of a large building, what you guessed was the hotel. The driver opened your door for you, grabbing your bag for you as you stretched. Your bones were tired from all the sitting and your body was begging for adventure. Either that, or a nice nap. You knew you'd probably get started with the dig tomorrow, as the sun was beginning to set.

Walking into the lobby, you gazed at the tapestries and portraits that lined the walls. You could hear chatter coming from the lobby, people rushing to get their room keys. Monty turned, noticing you before he walked over to you, handing you your room key. "You have room seven." He spoke, dropping your key in the palm of your hand, before turning to look slightly behind you. "And Doctor Jones, you have room six." He passed the key to him before looking at the two of you. “Dinner is at six sharp, don’t be late.” He called, before walking away, disappearing around the corner.

Turning to face Indiana who stood beside you, you raised a brow, "Dinner on the Nile? Sounds fancy..." You trailed off, causing him to nod. 

"It's beautiful; The Nile. Staring down into a seemingly never-ending abyss." Indiana muttered before gesturing to the stairs, "Might want to get unpacked, neighbor. Don't want to be late." He spoke, before grabbing his suitcase and heading up the stairs. Letting out an irritated sigh, you grabbed your bag and followed behind.

You stopped at your door, taking your key and unlocking it. You pushed open the door, setting your case down. Shutting it behind you, you looked around the room. There was a queen bed in the center of the room, with creme and red sheets and sheer curtains hanging from it. You spotted a small wooden dresser beside the bed and a small desk on the other side. You dragged your suitcase to the bed, unclasping the locks and pushing the lid open. You paused, grabbing the framed picture from its place on top of your neatly folded clothes. You felt yourself become emotional, quickly setting the frame down on the bedside table. You were quick to put away your clothes, checking your watch for the time. You still had enough time to get dressed, pushing the drawer closed, you grabbed your chosen attire and headed to the bathroom. 

~~~

On the boat, you sat at a long table, eating dinner. Thankfully, you were sitting beside Mr. Tucker and Mr. Black, though Indiana was sitting across from you; periodically looking at you as the dinner continued. The entree, rice-stuffed vegetables, and grape leaves were beyond delicious and brought up a lot of memories from your last trip to Cairo. The waiters then came around, placing a plate of sweet honey cakes in front of you; you felt your mouth salivate from just looking at the tasty dessert. You picked up your fork, stabbed a piece of the cake, taking a bite. It tasted amazing and made you realize how hungry you had become. With an appreciative hum, you reached for another piece, biting into the sweet cake, closing your eyes as you savored the sweetness. Unbeknownst to you, Indiana was watching you with a small grin. He'd never really seen you smile before and he'd found it quite entertaining, endearing even. After finishing up your cake, and as most of the others had left the table, you wiped your hands clean; dabbing your mouth with your napkin. You glanced over at Indiana, your eyes locking with his for the briefest of moments before your gaze fell down to your empty plate.

You quickly pushed your chair back, standing before you made your way onto the deck. You leaned your arms against the railing, watching the fairy lights dance across the water's reflection. People were chatting not too far away, sipping their white wine and having a great time. You, meanwhile, stared down at the river, silently listening to the soft sounds of laughter and music. The sound of someone gently clearing their throat broke that peace. You looked over to see Indiana, raising your eyebrows when you noticed his glass was almost drained.

"What do you want?" You asked, giving him a stern look.

Indiana blinked at your slightly harsh tone, "Just thought you might need some company." He offered, and you hummed tiredly, turning back to the river. Indiana stood beside you, looking down at the river with you. Taking a glance at you, he noticed your small frown, eyes cast downwards at the black abyss of the Nile, the soft lights casting shadows on your face. He watched as you ran your finger across the edge of your empty glass, staring into nothingness as you did. "What's the matter?" He asked, turning to face you slightly.

"Nothing," You answered with a shrug of your shoulders, taking another sip of your own drink, "Just thinking. By the way, it's none of your business."

He watched you curiously, seeing the look in your eyes; his own eye widening slightly, "You've been to Cairo before?" He asked in realization.

You let out a deep sigh, "If you must know since you keep pestering me... Yes. I have." You answered, looking up at him through your lashes, "Why are you so interested? And how did you know?"

Indiana looked at you, tilting his head slightly. "I'm curious about you."

Giving him a glare, studying him. Indiana was wearing what he usually wore, minus the whip and his hat. A loose white shirt tucked underneath tan pants. His hair was messy but kept somewhat under control. You bit your lip slightly, glancing away from his piercing stare. If he wasn't so irritating, you would find him charming. As it was, you couldn't help but feel slightly flustered by him. You shook your head slightly, turning to face the river once more. "Is that all you ever are, Doctor Jones? Curious?" You questioned.

Indiana smirked, "Call me Indiana."

You sputtered out a laugh, "I'll stick with Doctor Jones."

It was silent for a while, Indiana letting out a hum as he looked back at the river. "I know that look."

"What look?" You asked, turning to look at him, catching his side profile.

"You've missed this place." Was all Indiana answered back with, making you turn back to the river, pursing your lips. You stared down at the water, a cold breeze blowing past you as you thought about whether or not to let the man in. You had built your walls up so high…

"My father used to take me with him to Cairo for his excavations." You began softly, Indiana turned to you once more, his arms leaning against the boat's railing; he was silent, waiting for you to continue. "His first expedition was one of the most successful, he was able to find some valuable artifacts along the way." You sighed, smiling lightly as you remembered your father and his work. "But, after years of working hard and trying to make a name for himself, my father met someone who had told him about a rare artifact. One that would put my father down in the books as the finder."

"What happened?" Indiana asked softly, moving closer to you to hear the rest.

"A certain archaeologist took all the credit." You muttered grumpily, looking up at Indiana. "A certain archaeologist that was your father." You confessed, making Indiana's eyes widen.

"My dad?" Indiana narrowed his eyebrows, "So is this why you've been so cold towards me? Because of something my father did to yours?" His voice was laced with annoyance.

You shook your head, "No, actually it's the opposite. I just find you really stubborn, arrogant, annoying, scruffy-looking-"

"Scruffy-looking?" Indiana scoffed.

"-and rude. And you're always asking stupid questions-" You started to ramble until you heard Indiana laughing, "-What is it?" You asked, cocking your head.

"Well, do you know what I think?" He stated slowly, glaring at you.

"No," You replied, crossing your arms. "What do you think?" 

Indiana smirked as he leaned down slightly, "I think that you think you're so much better than me." He answered tauntingly, making you huff.

"Really? Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe..." You snapped, "Maybe I just don't like you!"

"Well, I don't like you either, sweetheart!" Indiana exclaimed, making you scoff.

"Fine! And don’t call me that!" You quickly pushed past him, Indiana turning to watch you.

"Fine!" He yelled back, staring as you paused at the railing, your tense shoulders falling as you ducked your head. Your breath slowed as you clenched your fists tightly.

"You were right about one thing, Doctor Jones." You mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

Indiana crossed his arms, "And what is that?"

You gave him a side glance, "It is beautiful." You answered, before heading back inside the boat.

Indiana stared at you as you left, eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he pursed his lips. He turned back to the dark Nile water, running his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends slightly; letting out a heavy sigh.

~~~

You held your hat on your head, the wind blowing past you as you sat in the back of the wagon. You were heading to the excavation site, a couple of minutes out of Cairo, further down the river. 

"We're coming up to the site my first team had uncovered," Monty spoke up, gaining your and Indiana's attention over the loud engine.

"Will the first team be meeting us there?" You asked, but Monty shook his head, hands firmly clasped around his cane.

"No, I'm afraid I had to fire them." He spoke, making you furrow your eyebrows.

"What did they do?" Indiana inquired, causing Monty to shrug.

"They, shall we say, broke the contract." Monty replied, voice strange as he leaned against the wagon's wall, a small smirk on his face; eyes holding some unknown emotion. It irked you.

Suddenly the wagon stopped abruptly, sending you forward. Indiana was quick to grab your arm, saving you from slamming your face on the ground. You pulled your arm away, fixing your posture. Monty jumped off the wagon, making his way around to the front, opening the trap door. You climbed out, adjusting the hat on your head. Indiana followed suit, stepping into the heat of the day. Looking around at the landscape, your eyes widened as you saw the hidden temple, half-emerged from the sand. Even though most of it was hidden under the sand, you could tell it was a large structure. It was rectangular in shape, with large pillars holding up the large stone entrance. The entrance was dark, with two lit torches on another side of it, you could see the engraving on the side of the temple; beautifully crafted. 

"It's similar to the Temple of Edfu." You exclaimed, eyes wide in excitement and awe. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the inside.”

"Doctor, why don't you take a look?" Monty asked, making you look over at him.

Taking your time, you carefully made your way to him, turning your attention to the dark entranceway. It had stairs that lead straight down. Now that you were closer, you could see the touches that lit the stairwell. "I believe what we seek is down there," Monty spoke, as Mr. Turner and Mr. Black headed down into the temple; Indiana stopped beside you.

"Are you coming with us?" He asked, and Monty shook his head, tapping his left knee gently with his hand.

"Bad knee, you can understand." 

You nodded, and started down the temple stairs, holding onto the walls for stability as you did so. Indiana was close behind, grabbing a touch on the way in. Soon the stairs stopped, opening up into a long hallway; the walls lined with hieroglyphics; the air was still and stagnant, the only sounds being the footsteps of yours, Indiana's, Mr. Black's, and Mr. Turner's. 

Walking slowly down the hall, your footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. You stopped behind Mr. Black and Mr. Turner as they paused before a room. It was large, with strange symbols on the ground along with the walls. You leaned around the two men, spying perfectly square holes in the walls. "You go first." Mr. Black muttered, nudging Mr. Tucker, who nudged him back.

"You scared, Black?" Tucker teased, "It's just a room, right?"

"I don't know, I don't recognize any of these symbols." Mr. Black muttered and Tucker sighed, taking a step into the room. 

Suddenly, an arrow shot out of the wall, hitting Mr. Tucker right in the head, instantly killing him. You gasped, covering your mouth as Mr. Black yelled out.

"Booby traps!"

Mr. Black turned around and pushed you and Indiana out of the way, terror in his eyes as he scampered down the hall and up the stairs. 

"Coward!" You yelled out to him, before gritting your teeth and turning back to the room.

"What do you think?" Indiana spoke up, his voice echoing off the walls.

"What do I think?" You asked, giving him a side glance, "I think we keep going." You said before narrowing your eyes on the floor. "It seems that if you step on the wrong tile, the trap goes off." You theorized before you went to take a step forward; but Indiana grabbed your arm, pulling you back.

"What are you doing?" He asked, looking at you as if you were crazy.

You looked up at him as you pulled your arm away from him again. "If you had read some of the hieroglyphics back there you would know that it basically told you how to get across this room."

Indiana narrowed his eyes at you, "When were you going to tell me you can read hieroglyphics?"

You turned away, stepping into the room, "You never asked, now, only step where I step." You replied, turning back to Indiana.

He watched as you took another step, his heart lurching with each step you took; thankfully, no arrows shot out of the walls. "Step where I step," Indiana muttered, making you stop, glaring over at him.

"No mocking me, I can easily lead you astray." You lightly scolded, before pointing to a stone with a bird-like symbol.

Indiana moved to that step, before taking the next one. "Would you?" The tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife.

"No." You answered before you hopped onto the last stone, like a messed up version of hopscotch; struggling to keep your balance. "But I could."

Indiana stepped on the last one before he entered the next hallway with you. "You know, it would've been helpful to know you could read it," Indiana muttered to you, taking the lead as he walked down the hall with you.

"Jones! Wait!" You exclaimed quickly, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him back, noticing the ceiling with a large slit in it. 

"What?" He asked, and you grabbed your hat, tossing it in front of Indiana, watching as a large sharp object shot down, cutting your hat in half.

"For someone so observant, you really are blind sometimes. Booby trap." You answered, making Indiana sigh. 

"Thanks, sweetheart." Indiana thanked you sarcastically, his voice deep and taunting as he stepped over the booby trap, continuing down the hall.

You followed close behind, glaring at Indiana's back, "Don't call me sweetheart." You practically growled before you heard yelling from where you had come from. "I think we should go back." You spoke up and Indiana nodded.

"I think you're right." He answered, the two of you making your way back past the fallen booby trap and across the tiles and up the stairs; careful not to get shot. Stopping at the top of the stairs, you moved your hand above your eyes as the wind and sand blew against you harshly.

"Come on, we have to go!" One of Monty's men yelled out to you, taking your hand.

"What's going on!?" Indiana yelled out over the loud wind.

"There's a storm coming. We have to get back before it hits us!" He yelled, guiding you both back to a smaller van, before speeding away back to Cairo.

Back at the hotel, you shook out your hair, bits of sand falling to the ground and onto the carpet below. Indiana did the same, grumbling about sand in his shoes as you headed up the stairs together. 

"How long will the storm be?" You asked, and Indiana shrugged, his shoulders falling as he let out a sigh.

"I don't know, hours?" He answered before heading down the hall and stopping at his door. "Good night, Doctor." He spoke before entering his room and shutting the door.

You pursed your lips before entering your room. Shutting your own door, you shuffled to the dresser, grabbing some night clothes as the wind howled. Changing quickly, you sat on your bed, exhausted. 

~~~

A knock at your door awoken you, your eyes blinking rapidly as you sat up in the bed, the blanket dropping to your waist. As whoever was at your door knocked again, you slid out of bed, slipping on your slippers and robe before heading to the door. Opening it slightly, you looked up to find Indiana staring down at you. He was dressed for the day, similar to his attire the day before. You rubbed your cheek as you spoke, "May I help you, Doctor?" 

"I'm taking you to see a friend of mine," Indiana replied, giving you a grin.

"Right now? Aren't we going back to the temple today?" You asked and Indiana shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"That sandstorm covered most of the temple, so they are going to re-excavate it." He answered, and you raised an eyebrow.

"So that means you want to drag me around Cairo?" You asked and Indiana nodded.

"Thought it would be better than sitting in your room all day." He spoke, and you raised an eyebrow at him. Why was he now being so nice?

You let out a sigh, casting your gaze down, "Fine. I'll be ready in ten." You answered, shutting the door.

You quickly grabbed some clothes and got dressed, stumbling to the door as you pulled on and laced your boots. Opening the door, you spotted Indiana leaning across from your room on the wall. He pushed off the wall as you neared, fixing your hair. "Who are we going to go see?" You asked and Indiana began walking, you followed close behind, being able to catch up and walk beside him.

"A friend of mine." He answered back, a smirk on his face.

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking over at him, "A friend of yours? Wow, very specific." You mumbled, earning a laugh from him. "I like them already." You said sarcastically. 

Indiana ignored your obvious enthusiasm, "He helps me with excavations sometimes. He lives in the city." 

You hummed, stepping out into the streets of Cairo. Indiana led you around the city, passing by vendors, businesses, and homes. You both weaved past people carrying woven baskets on their shoulders, others carrying bags filled with goods. You saw a man standing outside of a clothing shop, a few children following along beside him as they played with a ball. Their laughter reached your ears and a smile formed on your face. It didn’t take long to reach Indiana’s destination, stopping at a house, you narrowed your eyes at it.

"This place seems familiar."

Indiana turned to look down at you, his eyebrows furrowed, "Familiar?"

Before you could say anything you heard laughter, watching as nine children ran out of the house, all crowding around Indiana in a giant hug. Indiana beamed, ruffling some of the kid's hair, as they chanted his name. The whole scene in front of you surprised you. It was almost… Endearing.

"Where are my- do my eyes deceive me?" You turned to the new voice and your eyes widened, a smile on your face. "Jawhara!" He cried, rushing up to you as you threw your arms around him.

Indiana watched in shock as you laughed, hugging the man he knew to be his friend, Sallah. So that was what you meant when you said you recognized the home.

Pulling back, Sallah looked at you with a beaming smile, "Oh, how you've grown. Just like your mother. Yet as adventurous as your father." He praised you, making you smile sheepishly.

"Thank you, Sallah. I am so glad to see you again. It's been ages." You replied, glancing over at Indiana who had been frozen, staring at you. "I didn't know you had kids." You turned back to Sallah, who nodded happily.

"Yes, you remember my wife, Fayah? Yes, nine perfect children." He replied, before he turned to Indiana, his kids having gone back inside a while ago. "Let's go inside, we have lots to catch up on."

Inside, you sat down at a table with Indiana and Sallah, sipping some tea that Fayah had made for you. Indiana looked to his friend and to you, before looking back to Sallah. "How do you two know each other?" He asked and Sallah sighed.

"I was friends with their father and mother, when they traveled here Fayah and I would take care of them.” He explained, smiling fondly at you before turning to Indiana. "Such a little troublemaker this one was." Sallah added and you blushed, slightly embarrassed as Indiana chuckled.

"Still is."

You turned to him, giving him a small glare, only for him to sort of glare back. Sallah cleared his throat, gaining your attention back. "So, how do you two know each other? Friends? Lovers?"

"Sal!"

"Sallah!"

You and Indiana both exclaimed, making the older man laugh, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. You rubbed your face, closing your eyes as you leaned your elbows on the table. Indiana ran a hand through his hair, before speaking.

"We were both asked to join this excavation." He answered simply, letting out a tired sigh.

Sallah smiled brightly, turning to you, "You were asked to join them?"

You nodded with your own smile. "We're looking for Prince Huaphris's tomb."

The older man's smile grew as he took another drink of his tea. "Ah, the forgotten Prince. I heard that they recently excavated a temple." 

"Sallah!" Fayah called from somewhere in the home, making the man in question straighten in his seat.

"Yes, habibi?" He called back, earning no answer. Turning, Sallah gave you both an apologetic smile, standing from his seat. "You must excuse me. You two can stay as long as you need " He spoke, headed to another room before he turned to you, "It was nice seeing you again, jawhara." He spoke softly before leaving the room.

You smiled, taking another sip of your tea as Indiana turned to you. "What does he call you?" He asked and you paused before you placed your cup down.

"He calls me ‘jewel’." You answered, before speaking again, "You didn't tell me you knew Sallah." Looking up into his eyes, he looked into yours.

"You didn't either."

A silence fell upon you, as the two of you just looked at each other. The tension, similar to the one in the temple, could also be cut with a knife. The room felt cold. The atmosphere was suffocating, almost unbearable. You didn't know how long the two of you sat there, staring at each other, before you snapped back to reality, clearing your throat as you avert your eyes. You hadn't even realized it, but you began to fiddle with your shirt sleeve, your fingers playing with a gold thread.

Indiana looked at you, watching as your eyes looked away from his, almost bashfully as you looked down at your lap. Indiana bit his lip, looking to the floor as well before looking back at you.

"Um... Y/n... I-" He trailed off, not sure of what to say. You turned your eyes back to his, looking at him questioningly. His cheeks began to feel warm. "Y/n, I..." He paused, swallowing thickly. "I'm sorry."

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. You glanced back down, looking at your lap as you bit the inside of your cheek. Your lips pursed together. "I'm sorry too. You know, for calling you scruffy-looking." You apologized, looking up at the man. "More than that, I have been a bit... Rude." You turned back to look at him, giving him a soft frown. The two of you continued to stare at each other silently. After a moment, you found yourself unable to stand the silence between the two of you. "Can we please start over? Properly this time?" You asked, and Indiana nodded, giving you a grin.

You both stood up, Indiana offering his hand to you, "I'm Indiana Jones." You smiled at him for the first time, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. Indiana's heart began to race at just the sight of your smile, "But you can call me Indiana."

"I'm Y/N L/N." You began, smiling at him. "It's nice to meet you, Indiana."

The two of you stayed quiet, looking at each other, Indiana's chest warming at the sound of your voice saying his name. Had his eyes always been that chocolatey brown? You felt heat rise in your cheeks and you coughed, clearing your throat, pulling your hand back to your side, "Well, we should get going." You said, nodding towards the door. "We wouldn't want to make our friend suffer. Hands probably full of kids.”

~~~

“We're going to have to cut this trip short. Another sandstorm is coming. Bigger than the last one.” Monty spoke, the handle of his cane glinting in the hot, smoldering sun.

Your head perked up at his words, pursing your lips, “How long do we have?” You asked, awaiting his answer.

“Less than three days.” He answered shortly.

“No offense, Mr. Shaw, but I don’t think we can get to the tomb in that amount of time.” Indiana spoke up beside you, and Monty turned to him, his fingers clenching his cane.

“Well, Doctor L/N finished that map, correct?” Monty asked and you were quick to nod your head. For the past couple of weeks, you have been charting the temple's layout. Marking down the halls and rooms, you had narrowed it down to one area where you were sure the tomb was located. "Splendid, I have faith in Doctor L/N's faultless expertise. We’ll find that tomb."

While you were working on your map, Indiana was researching the supposed treasure. Finding out that it would all be worth one million dollars. Especially if the rare artifact, the dagger of the fourth King, Ahkmenrah, was in there. It was all so thrilling. And during that time, you and Indiana grew closer. You found him indeed charming as Indiana found you wondrous.

Taking a torch, you led the way, your fingers dragging along the inscriptions on the wall. As you walked farther and farther along, a sense of unease began to grow within you, causing your steps to slow. You glanced behind you to Indiana, "Do you trust Mr. Shaw?" You asked, and Indiana said nothing; taking your hand and taking the lead. 

"No." He finally said as he reached the first room, following your steps as you made sure not to step on the wrong tile. "Not at all, why?"

You hopped to the ledge, making it into the next hall, the sounds of your footsteps echoing loudly against the hard stone walls. "Because something doesn't add up about him."

He stopped at the next doorway, tilting his head as he regarded you. "Such as?" 

You shrugged, "The first team. Where did they go? And what about Mr. Tucker?" You said, gesturing back to the sadly dead boy of Mr. Tucker, "He didn't even seem to care when we told him."

Indiana sighed, taking your hand again as he led you down the hall with the one booby, helping you over it, “He has been a bit off-" He stopped abruptly at the end of the hallway, freezing.

You looked at him, tightening your hold on his hand, "What? What is it?" You asked, leaning to the side to see that the hall just opened up, dropping into a dark hole; it was at least eight feet or more across. You gulped, feeling a shiver run down your spine as you felt your hands clam up. "Indiana... Please don't tell me we have to cross that." You practically begged, eyes wide as you stared at the deep hole.

"It seems we don't really have a choice, sweetheart." He mumbled, before going straight into action, letting go of your hand and grabbing his whip. 

Your mind completely passed over him calling you 'sweetheart', rather thinking about falling down to your death. You bit your lip, "I don't think I can do it, Indiana. I'm not really good with heights... And you know, the whole impending doom of falling down that thing."

Indiana took the torch from your hand, reaching out and dropping it into the deep depths, watching it as it fell down and down… Indiana then swung his whip as best as he could, before aiming it at a small beam on the ceiling. Tugging it, Indiana turned to you, offering his hand to you. "You can do this. Just hold onto me tight." He softly commanded. You let out a shaky breath, before grabbing Indiana's hand with a death grip. Pulling you closer, Indiana wrapped his arm around your waist, "Don't look down." He whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he gripped your waist tighter.

Digging your head into his shoulder, you shut your eyes tight. Taking a step forward, Indiana pushed off from the ground; swinging across. You squeezed tighter as you felt the wind move across your hair and face, your stomach flipping as your feet left the ground. Soon though, your feet touched the ground, but you kept your arms around Indiana, clinging to him. You peeked open an eye, taking in the view of your surroundings.

"Are you alright?" He questioned, turning to face you as you slowly released your hold on him.

You felt your heart thumping in your chest as you looked up at him. He was so close. If you only leaned in a little bit more-

You gave a nod, "Yeah, but I am never doing that again." You let out, making Indiana laugh lightly as he tugged his whip down, letting go of your waist but taking your hand again as you walked down the next hall, but not before grabbing another torch.

This hall was larger, far more spacious, allowing Indiana to walk beside you; his hand dropping from yours. You frowned slightly, missing his hand in yours as you clenched your hands briefly before looking at the walls. You could make out most of the inscriptions, catching a passage but you were quick to get distracted. You turned yet again down another hall, making you sigh. It felt like you had been walking on the slight slope for hours and your knees were beginning to ache. When really, it had been only a couple of minutes and your knees were aching. Right when you were about to say something, you paused to see two beautifully designed statues holding up the entranceway, and two perfectly carved snakes on each wall.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Indiana muttered, looking at the architecture in awe.

"Impeccably so," You responded in kind, looking at the statues. One of them was holding some sort of animal, but you couldn't figure it out. A couple of meters ahead of you stood a pedestal, sitting upon it was a golden coffin, your face brightened as you pointed to it.

"We found it!" You exclaimed, taking his hand and dragging him further into the tomb. Before you, the tomb sat on a large pillar, carved to look like snake scales, dropping off with a large gap between you and it. Behind the tomb was the treasure, the treasure of the forgotten Prince. Golden vases and goblets. Thousands of jewels were overflowing a giant golden chest, and golden coins laying on the ground. With a joyful smile, you turned to Indiana, his own lips turned up in a smile as he looked at the tomb. You had done it; you had actually uncovered an ancient Egyptian tomb. A Prince, not to mention. You were over the moon.

Suddenly, you heard a loud explosion of some kind, watching as the wall nearest to the treasure blasted apart, smoke flying in the air as you stepped closer to Indiana, flinching at the loud noise. Pausing, you heard slow clapping, seeing Monty, and a couple of his men as the smoke dissipated into the air. They held guns as they stepped over the rubble. As did Monty,  holding it by his pinkie as he clapped; a smirk on his face. "Well done, Doctors. Well done."

"Are you crazy!?" Indiana exclaimed angrily, "You just ruined thousand-year-old history!"

Monty scoffed, gesturing with his hand, his men rushed over, grabbing armfuls of the treasure. "I want to thank you two. If it weren't for your knowledge of the treasure and your knowledge of Forensic Archaeology, I wouldn't have found the treasure. I do have to give you two credit. After all, you did lead me straight to it." He laughed evilly, before pointing his gun at the two of you. "Now, if you'd like to take a glance down, you'll see your future, and well, your end." You glared up at the man, seeing red. He used you. Both of you.

You leaned over slightly to see that you were standing above a pit of snakes. Hundreds, thousands of snakes, slithering; crawling over each other. Your heart started to pound rapidly inside of your chest, and your breaths became shallow. This wasn't how you expected this adventure to end. 

"Snakes... Why is it always snakes?" Indiana mumbled to himself, seemingly frightened as his terror-filled brown eyes stared down at the evil beneath him.

"I did actually read something about how the Prince really liked snakes back in the hall." You spoke up, Indiana turning to you with narrowed eyes. “He even had a pet snake named Hathor.”

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, frustratedly as you shrugged.

"The pet snake? I didn't think it was a big deal.” You shrugged, making Indiana shake his head, looking down at you.

“No, about the pit of snakes.” He answered back, annoyed, and your eyes widened slightly as you ‘oohed.’

“Oooh, I thought if they had put anything down here it would've been dead already. But I can see how if they put enough down there, they could procreate... But what would they eat?" You ranted slightly and Indiana rubbed his face.

"Each other, sweetheart."

Monty became more and more irritated as you both bantered back and forth, physically shaking, "Shut up! Both of you!" He yelled, shooting his gun at the ceiling, but you both ignored him.

You scrunched up your nose. "But do you know if they have those types of snakes down there? I mean, when I looked, I saw a King Cobra, but I don't think snakes eat each other, even in times of hardship." 

“I have no idea, Y/N, I’m not a snake professor.” Indiana sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

"Shut up!" Monty yelled out again, in red rage before he aimed his gun and shot out. 

You watched in a sort of slow-motion as Indiana clutched his shoulder, blood seeping through his dirtied shirt as he toppled over, falling down into the snake pit.

"Indy!" You cried out, eyes wide in shock and fear. Not really thinking, you jumped down, landing in the sand that didn't have any snakes, but on your side, making you wince. That was definitely going to leave a bruise.

"That was a very foolish thing to do, Doctor. Do you know how many poisonous creatures are in this pit? I should shoot you, but I guess I will allow you to live." Monty spoke, voice low and threatening. You looked up at him, as he just laughed, gesturing for his men to hurry up. "No hard feelings!" He called down to you as he left the temple with his men, carrying bags of artifacts.

You quickly stood up, looking around, spotting Indy's torch near you. Grabbing it, you found Indy standing in his own clear section, surrounded by snakes. Thinking quickly, you measured the distance between yourself and Indy; forming a plan. "Snakes don't like fire, right?" You called to him, watching as you moved the torch around, the snakes backing away from you as they hissed.

"They hate it!" Indiana yelled back, the snakes getting incredibly closer to him.

Concentrating, you tossed your torch in the middle of the snakes blocking you from Indiana. The snakes hit with the flames hissed and quickly slithered away, leaving a good amount of empty ground for you. Indiana watched you as you took a couple of steps back before sprinting forward, jumping into a front flip and landing in the small circle you made with your torch. Picking it up, you tossed it to Indiana, who quickly grabbed it as you landed another flip into his circle.

"Where did you learn that?" He asked as you looked around at the snakes.

"My mother, now do you have a plan?" You asked as he waved the torch at the snakes, making them back off.

"No, do you?" He asked and you looked around the room, noticing four large pillars in the corners. Looking at the ceiling, you found that it was cracking, from the bullet Monty had shot at it. You watched as it began to crumble, giving you an idea. 

"Yeah, and you're not going to like it." You spoke, noticing most of the pillars had snakes creeping along them. The drop from where you had been was only maybe a fifteen-foot drop, too high to reach but the pillars had deep grooves that you could use. "Indiana, follow me." You instructed before you took a running jump and grabbed onto the pillar. Similar to rock climbing, you used your upper body strength to push yourself up and grab another deep groove, pulling yourself up. Looking down, you weren't more than nine feet off the ground. 

Indiana looked up at you before he dropped the torch, running up and grabbing the first groove before pulling himself up to the next one beside you. "What now?" He asked, wincing from the pain in his shoulder as your chest heaved and you looked up.

"I don't know, i'm making up this stuff as I go. Maybe we could keep climbing until we get to the top. Idiot Monty shot the column, it's unstable. We can slide around to the back and push it off the wall."

"Do you really think we can push a thousand-pound rock?" Indiana asked as you shrugged, climbing higher.

"We got to try, and I don't know about you, but I'd rather not be snake food." 

Carefully, you both climbed up, moving against the wall. Pushing your backs against it, you put your feet against the pillar, pushing with everything you had. Hearing a loud rumbling, you opened your eyes to see the ceiling crumbling away, the pillar began to shake as it broke away from the stone. You watched as it began to fall, jumping down and running along the falling column, Indiana running close behind as the large sculpted stone hit the Prince's tomb, crashing into it harshly.

"Sorry, your highness!" You cried out as Indiana took your hand. Before running up the ramp you made out of the pillar and jumped over the large chasm, over the snakes; landing brutally on your sides.

You sat up with a wince, holding onto your side as you watched the sculpted pillar that the tomb was on slowly crumb, before falling down into the pit of snakes, the tomb going with it. 

"At least he's with his snakes." You grimaced, as Indiana let out a deep breath, his chest heaved, sweat covering his brow and his forehead. You stood up with a grunt and helped him up, smiling weakly.

"That was quite a leap you made there." He groaned, your arms wrapping his arm over your shoulder, leading him through the hole Monty and his men made with their explosives. 

"And you, you survived a pit of snakes." You praised, carefully making it over the broken pieces of wall.

"Wouldn't be the first." He hissed in pain through his teeth, a smile on his face nonetheless.

~~~

Making it to the surface, you let out a sigh of relief, before turning to look up at Indiana. "Are you alright, Indy?"

"You called me Indy?" He asked, looking down at you, a small smiling forming on your lips.

"I also did when you got shot, but that doesn't matter right now. If you're fine, we need to get to Monty, and get that gold back." 

"You're the boss, honey." He replied back as you began to walk to Cairo. Indiana turned down to look at you, noticing your little freckles and the way your lashes caressed the tops of your cheeks. "You didn't tell me off for that one." He noticed and you hummed, staring up ahead.

"I guess I don't mind that one." You confessed quietly, making Indiana smile proudly before it slowly faltered as he heard a car in the distance. Ahead, you watched as a car drove towards you, stopping a couple of feet away. 

"Jawhara!" A voice called, making you smile seeing Sallah in the driver's seat. You quickly rushed over, helping Indiana in as you took the passenger seat.

"Sal! How did you find us?" You asked, pleasantly surprised as Sallah began to speed back to Cairo.

"I was out in town and watched those excavators leave but without you. Knew you and Indiana were in trouble." He spoke as he carefully weaved his way past people.

"Thank you, Sallah," Indiana spoke up from the back and Sallah nodded his head, catching a glimpse of Indy in the mirror.

“So, what happened?” Sallah asked as he speed down the sandy dunes, the trip bumpy as you held onto the seat, your other hand pressed firmly into the van’s ceiling.

“Shaw tried to kill us with a snake pit.” You answered, making Sallah laugh heartily.

“Ah! Typical. Must have been terrible for Indy. Hating snakes and all. But, I am glad you both made it out alive!”

You looked behind you to Indiana, a small smirk on your face. “You hate snakes? Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked him as he grimaced just thinking about the slithering reptile. 

“Why would I? Just thinking about them…” Indiana shivered.

You turned back to Sallah, “Thank you again, Sal.”

"Anything for Indiana Jones and my Jawhara!"

Sallah sped down the desert, somehow being able to catch up to the plane before it went into the air. Sallah stopped a little ways away as Indiana pulled his gun from his belt, checking the bullets before he hopped out of the car. You opened the glove compartment and grabbed Sallah's gun, before doing the same. Getting low, you rushed up to Indiana behind a giant boulder, holding your gun close as you both peeked out from behind the rock.

"How many?" You asked softly, as Indiana counted the men, watching as they slowly packed away the gold in the plane.

"Eight?" He asked, more as a question. "Don't get killed." He then said, turning down to look at you.

You just looked up at him with a smile, "Not planning to." You promised, giving him a wink.

Quickly, you and Indiana began your assault, taking down as many men as you could from behind your spot, the men firing back. You were able to hit three of them, sending them down before they could reload.

"This isn't working." One of the men shouted and you looked up just in time to watch him take out a grenade, pulling out the clip with his teeth.

Quickly, you ducked behind the boulder, sand flying in the air before the sound of gunfire. You looked down at your gun, it had jammed. And beside you, Indiana was gone, making your eyes widen and your heart pound in your chest. Looking over the boulder, you watched him storm the plane, taking out the rest of the man. You let out a sigh as Indiana swerved around a man's punch, before knocking the man out. How he got on top of the plan, you'd probably never know. 

But you knew this wasn't the time to wonder about it, so while the last two men were busy with Indiana, you before rushing inside the plane. Inside, you paused, finding the stolen treasure. You knew you couldn't grab all of it, so once all the yelling, fighting, and gunfire stopped, you peeked your head out of the plane. 

Indiana walked over slowly, stumbling slightly as he made it to the plane's stairs, leaning up against it as he looked up at you. "Is it all there?" He asked, his hand gripping his shoulder, covered in dry blood.

You nodded with a bright smile, "Yeah, it's all here." You breathed out, "It's here."

~~~

In the spare bedroom of Sallah's home, you dipped a cool cloth into a bowl of water, rinsing, and squeezing it out. Reaching over, you gently dabbed Indiana's wound. Well, it wasn't really a wound, the bullet barely grazed him; though he was bleeding a lot. You were trying not to get distracted by Indiana's chest, his bare chest and stomach that was exposed; to easily access the wound. Glancing up, you watched as his face scrunched up in pain, wincing again. "I'm sorry..." You apologized softly, pressing lightly on the area again. You glanced back to Indiana's face and felt your cheeks heat up slightly before your eyes wandered to a small bruise forming on his cheek. 

Reaching out, you gently touched his skin, feeling how warm it was underneath your fingers. You swallowed nervously, trying to avoid eye contact as your finger trailed across the bruise before finally looking up at him. His eyes were closed, as he softly nudged his cheek into your hand; his own reaching up and gently holding your wrist.

"I'm fine. Always am. You have nothing to be sorry for." Indiana whispered, his eyes slowly opening, looking into yours intently.

"If I hadn't-"

"Don't start that again." He interjected, making your eyebrows furrow. "Stop beating yourself up over it, please."

"But if I had stopped talking about the snake..." You muttered only for him to interrupt you again, dipping the rag in the dirtying water again.

“What do you think would have happened? We still would've fallen into that pit; if anything I'm the one who should be apologizing." Indiana argued as you squeezed out the water.

"But you didn't do anything." You stated quietly, "Can we just drop this? We have already established that we are both stubborn. We won’t get anywhere fighting…" You commented, pressing the rag to his wound, making some progress as you finally cleared up all the blood, dirt, and sweat. Your words hung in the air between you, as you glanced up to meet his brown eyes. Your hand slowly fell from his shoulder, as you gazed into his eyes. His eyes flickered down at your lips, his thumb slowly rubbing your wrist until your skin warmed under his touch.

Indiana looked at you, the sun's rays shining down on you, illuminating your features. The sunlight glistened on your smooth face, making it seem like you were glowing under the light. You were breathtaking; stunning. Even with sand in your hair and a smudge of dirt on your face; you were heart-stopping. Indy's eyes widened a fraction of an inch and before he realized what he was doing, his thumb slipped from your wrist, brushing your skin softly as he reached over. Your breath hitched in your throat as he brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, pushing some of it behind your ear. Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you stared into the brown orbs of his. His gaze softens, his fingers running down your cheek and resting on your neck. You leaned closer to him, your lips almost touching as he stared into your eyes.

The world seemed to go silent as he lowered his head down to yours. It seemed like time slowed down, as he softly brushed his lips against yours, a small spark igniting inside of you. Your hands found their place in his hair, your fingertips lightly stroking through his silky locks as you deepened the kiss, knocking his precious hat off his head. After a moment, you parted, breathing heavily as you gazed into each other's eyes. You were both quiet, neither one daring to move, scared that any sudden movement would ruin the moment. So you kept gazing into each others' eyes, admiring the way the sunset brought out his eyes, the way his eyelashes brushed his cheeks, and the way his mouth curved into a slight smile, his forehead pressed against yours.

The sounds of people outside in the streets, going to and from businesses and shops, Indiana finally breaking the silence, "You're beautiful," He murmured, his hand moving to cup your face as he stared into your eyes with such intensity you felt you might drown in his stare.

You felt your cheeks flush and you closed your eyes as you leaned forward and kissed his palm. "You're a charmer, Jonesy." You whispered, your eyes fluttering open and gazing into his brown eyes, his smile widening slightly as he cupped your cheek. "Indy?" You then spoke up softly, making Indiana hum in response. "Do you know how to fly that plane?"

Indiana froze for a moment, "No?" He answered, making you laugh a little, nuzzling your nose with his as you pulled away, grabbing the bandages for his wound. 

"I had a feeling you wouldn't." You teased, biting your lip, giggling as Indiana narrowed his eyes at you, feigning offense. "I borrowed a phone while I was grabbing the bandages. We'll be out of Cairo and back in Connecticut tomorrow night. And I have a van that will be sending all the Prince's treasure to both the National Museum and the Smithsonian." You explained, wrapping the bandage around his upper arm.

Indiana's eyes lit up, a huge grin appearing on his face, "Oh, honey," He breathed out softly, "Could you be any more perfect?” He asked as you just rolled your eyes.

~~~

Standing beside you, suitcases packed and at your sides, you waited for the plane to arrive. You both had said goodbye to Sallah, his wife, and the kids. Promising to write and visit as much as possible. Indiana tugged you closer into his side, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as the wind began to pick up slightly as you watched an airplane slowly land. Indiana held his hat down as the plane slid to a stop a couple of meters away. The plane's propeller slowly spun to a stop as the door opened, and an older man with a thick gray beard stepped out. In spotting you, he smiled rushing over. You did the same, pulling your father into your arms. 

Indiana watched in a form of awe as you smiled at the man before turning around and smiling over at him.

"Come on, Indy. Let's go home."

Without wasting another second, Indiana grabbed the suitcases, following you to the plane. And as he sat beside you, being introduced to your father, Indiana couldn't help but wonder... What new adventures were in store for him?

[doiefics]

run, stupid

pairing: ten lee x gn!reader

prologue: you take ten to a local strip club, hoping you’d get some free food, but what happens when a dancer takes to your lap instead?

genre: crack + established relationship!au

wordcount: 1,334

warnings: mature content [ alcohol + strip tease + lap dance + language ]

"Are you sure?" Ten asked with a concerned look in his eyes, something that wasn’t usual unless it was about demanding proper explanations regarding his feline’s meals at the store.

"Of course! It’s not like somebody’s gonna murder us!" You reassured him, taking his hand in yours.

"We're doing this for cheap food? Tell me again that you are sure." He was still on the fence regarding your intention of going to this mid graded strip club only to get some nice cuisine at a lower price and possibly kill two birds with one stone.

As you went inside, you hastily pulled his hand along with you. Before allowing the two of you in, they conducted a quick security check. Too posh for a place like this, you thought. 

"We aren't even dressed for it." Ten whined, toying with your hand.

"We don't need to dress, this is literally a strip club." You were quick to shut him up but he wasn’t the easy type.

"Strip club? What do you mean? I'm not showing off my priceless physique to make some cash." He protested, purposefully being extra this evening.

You released his hold and folded your hands. Glancing around as if absorbing the atmosphere.

"I've never been here before." You expressed.

"I haven't either, baby."  He too, was taken aback by the room's opulence to respond. Maybe the two of you could have just been to the university cafe and worked on your assignments instead. 

Cliche neon blue lights with a combination of bright white lasers were being thrown around in the room in rhythmic rotations. It was blasting sensual music and heavily autotuned voices of people moaning. This place was full of people, all of them fully clothed and yet the food was nowhere to be seen.

You sat on one of the sofa lounges along with Ten, moving your gaze at every corner hoping you would be able to read the air, as he did the same. 

A group of people passing by in sparkling, golden, and silver attire gave you two the side-eye. You may have been underdressed, as Ten suggested.

"What happens next?" He questioned as he sank his face into his hands.

"I don't know. Where are the strippers?" You examined.

"And where is the food?" He sighed out of annoyance.

You were still oblivious while a quarter of an hour passed at the pace of a snail. This place was certainly not like the ones they showed in the movies, something was actually odd.

"Let's just leave." Ten followed your suggestion after you picked up your backpack.

But you and the man were stopped right then by one of the managers, who quickly ordered a waiter and offered you a few drinks and some free food. The food was only complementary, you see, and most of the people in the room were the least bothered about it anyways.

Ten asked you to affirm as he peered into your eyes, and you nodded.

"We easily have the money to relax here instead, so maybe we can go to that gala later." You spoke dramatically, loud enough so that the waitstaff, supervisors, and other customers could hear you. The exaggeration was embarrassing. 

They shouldn't ever be aware of the reason for your visit, you thought. You flipped your hair back as Ten facepalmed at your odd move.

“All that can probably do is paint us even more fishy in their eyes, Y/N i swear to god!” Ten commented.

“If you’re doing this just so we can go back to the hostel and see that flop movie you like, then this ain’t working.” The man blinked dramatically as though his eyelids were heavy.

After setting up the table with only a little variety of snacks and drinks, they left while you took turns sipping and each one. That was the most you could do.

The stage, which was about to be used for the performance, was the centre of attention, and it was a revolving one.

"Shit's getting real!" Ten beamed as he started to poke you on the shoulder relentlessly.

"Chill." You asked him to calm down.

In the beginning, it was only the dancers performing sensual dances. There was nothing too special about it you thought. "You could do better than them." You suggested your boyfriend. "Oh, of course." He joked along with you.

The actual business soon got underway as the fanciest, laciest clothing items were one by one flung to the floor, leaving only the barest necessities.

Ten was astounded by the acts and covered his eyes with his palms.

"What?" He continued to close his eyes even after you pushed his hand away.

"I'm a loyal boyfriend." He explained.

"Just look at it as art then." While keeping your eyes glued to the show, you exclaimed.

"They are doing what? I thought their policy was ‘just see, no touch’?" He asked about the dancers' performance because one of them had begun to execute a lap dance for a middle-aged drunk man seated at a different table.

"No, I guess they had to pay for the additional services." You answered Ten's query, who was busy stuffing his mouth with the fries by now.

He showed a thumbs up, indicating he was satisfied.

By the time one of the other dancers began to approach you, Ten was still fixated on the food. They must have had a clear misunderstanding because you believed you were not responsible for paying for it, even though the club sounded not too expensive, you were still unsure if you wanted it, it wasn’t just about the money.

The stripper sat down in your lap less than a second later, shocking you momentarily as you sat there frozen.

Ten's eyes widened as he attempted to talk to them. "No, sorry, I don’t think she’s liking it." He stated, signaling a no with the gesture of his hands, too.

With the blink of an eye, it became more heated this time as they began to move their hands and hips to the excessively sexy beats playing in the background.

Your guy had already stood up at this point. "Why don't you understand it right away? Hold it!" He kept talking. “Excuse me?!”

They took your hands in theirs and put them on your body as you made an effort to stop by lifting your hands to them.

"Get off my girl, you bitch!" He screamed, throwing one of the drinks on them and attracting everyone's attention. This was one very impulsive act. 

The club instantly froze. The dancer hastily left, but something didn't feel right. Nothing about this place has been right since the time you entered.

"Am I sensing trouble?" Ten was in a panic.

"Stupid, all you could have done was yell." You swore.

"What should we do now?" He asked.

Contrary to expectations, this conversation moved forward much more quickly.

"Run!" As you scooped up your backpacks, you yelled.

Gasps and gossips could be heard as you leaped upon the sofas and chairs. There was at least one bouncer chasing you out if not two or three, but none of you had the foresight or bravery to glance behind. Tall and well built men in those dark coloured suits and black glasses, while you two looked like kids in front of them. 

You continued running for around minutes before stopping to collect your breath in what seemed like a ghosted alley.

Ten followed after to make sure. "They've left." He was panting heavily as he put his hands on his knees.

"Fuck!" You swore.

"This was crazy." He remarked. "Your free food idea was horrible, baby. But I won’t lie I’m full for tonight." He chuckled. “More with adrenaline though.”

"Yeah?” You flicked him off as he joined your laughter and started clapping his hands enthusiastically.

"Are we real?" He spoke while caressing your face and gazing intently into your eyes.

"Very much!" You spoke up and gave him a quick smooch.

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

[coldhndss]

Tulip 1/2 ft. Isagi. Y

The static sound of your fan blows strongly, circulating the same suffocating air around your room. You lay on your bed, listless. 

It’s been hours, no, days since your phone last buzzed. Looks like everyone’s out, doing their own thing. Going to the beach, shopping, hiking or just hanging out with friends. 

You sit up and glance towards your bedside table. There, lies a photo of your excited classmates together, with Yoichi adorning a shy smile in the middle. His extended leave from school was unexpected, and when everyone eventually found out about his invitation to a special soccer training program, they threw a surprise party. Finding out so unexpectedly was a complete shock. Everyone else was happy for him, but why did you feel so..

Empty?

Yoichi had come by your house in the morning like he always does, knocking on your door, waiting so the two of you could walk to school together. You and him made a habit of doing this, whether it was snowing heavily, or scorching hot, he’d always be outside your door, waiting for you with a smile on his face that said 'I'll always be here for you'.

That was until a paper slipped out of his bag during homeroom.

“Yoichi, you dropped something” You said, as you reached out and grabbed the folded note that had fallen from his bag, attached to a notebook he took out.

“Ah, no don’t touch that!” He immediately spurted. However, it was too late.  

‘Dear Mr Isagi Yoichi,

You have been selected for a special training program held by the Japanese Football Union…’

The letter outlined some details which insinuated a long-term leave without a certain date of return. You looked up at him, sadness glazing your confused gaze. 

“..What’s this?” You asked through choked words. 

Yoichi looked down at his table, unable to muster an answer. He never wanted you to feel betrayed, or that he was hiding something from you. His mind raced with excuses and worries, each attempting to manifest into a good enough response. He’s never been the confrontational type, struggling to bring his own opinion to light even when asked. It’s not like he intended to hide anything from you, he wanted to let you know as soon as he could, but he could never bring himself to soil the contagious laugh and happiness that you emitted.

He didn’t even want to humour the thought of you being alone.

Neither of you had the capacity to do anything of the sort.

“I’m.. Uh..” He muttered, the words barely leaving his mouth. He clenched his fists out of frustration at himself for his utter incompetence as a friend. Unable to meet your gaze, he stared down at the table in front of him. 

His paper was soon slipped back onto his desk followed by rushed footsteps outside the classroom. He looked over to your desk;

Small droplets of tears were visible on the surface of your table.

Ever since the two of you were little, whether you had a bad fall, or dropped your ice-cream on the ground, you had never sobbed or cried audibly. Sometimes, he’d look to you, and see tears suddenly welling up in your eyes, but you never made a sound.

He would wipe your tears with his thumb, and gently hold your hand in his, saying "Please don't cry.. " while tears begin to form in his eyes. Yoichi, being empathetic, would try to make you feel better but eventually, he'd begin crying himself.

You were never being confident enough to make friends on your own, meaning you always had very limited acquaintances, and only one friend, namely Yoichi. 

You avoided him for the rest of the day. You didn’t answer his calls, and left school before he did. Thorns wrapped sharply around your heart, and you remained like this until the day he left. You blamed yourself for the way you allowed this to happen, childishly placing your desires in the spotlight as though he didn't think of you, when you know he did. 

He was always the type of person to blame himself even if he was right. 

He always apologised for hurting you, when in reality you were hurting him.

You were always thinking about yourself when he was thinking about you.

You were wrong, and your arrogance made your only friend that lit up your heart, slip right from in between your fingers.

Sitting up on your bed, you take the photo frame in your hands and stare at yourself within the picture. Your appearance has changed quite a bit since he’d gone.

Your confidence dwindled causing you to stray further away from your classmates, more than you already had when he was still around.

If he were to see you now, he’d probably tell you off for not taking care of yourself properly.

Part 2

[kitasuno]

we fly together | kageyama tobio x reader

in which kageyama tobio is born for several things: the court, his team, and you. and he really, really wants to marry you.

wc: 766 | gn reader | little glimpses of your relationship with tobio over the years

There are several givens in Kageyama Tobio’s life. 

There’s volleyball. It’s in his blood. Volleyball is shoes squeaking on floors, the shrill of a whistle, Nikuman after practice, and that sweet, sweet feeling of connection– fingers brushing yellow and blue leather and palms aching after a serve. Kageyama Tobio was born for the court and born to fly. 

His team is one of them. There’s Sugawara, who still treats him to yakitori and an Asahi Dry (or three) whenever he’s back in Miyagi. Daichi sends him assorted nuts from Sendai every once in a while and Nishinoya mass e-mails him slightly blurry pictures of his life abroad on New Years. Ushijima buys electrolytes for him and Kourai. Shouyou is, well, Shouyou, and Kageyama counts him as two givens. 

There’s the small things too: he takes a little too long to read Kanji, he buys a new face wash every month, he will always avoid rush hour. 

And then, he thinks, there’s you. 

It hits him in full force in the middle of the street on a Tuesday evening as he holds a plastic bag of groceries. It also, consequently, renders him immobile for ten minutes, because Tobio had never been one to dwell on the givens. But as he stands on the pavement and his bag carries the burden of hashi for two, yogurt for two, two packs of sandwiches and four bags of gummies,

 ( because you really like those gummies: and Tobio had thought, if you like the grape flavor, then you should also try the strawberry. And if you wanted to try something new, you might crave the fizzy Cola ones. And if you liked the Cola ones, then he had to buy the Ramune flavored ones, too ) 

Tobio gets the urge to buy a ring. And an urge, no, a craving to marry you. 

Tobio remembers study sessions in high school and desperate makeouts in Karasuno’s dusty storage closet. He remembers the firsts: first conversation, first fight, first kiss, first date. Sprinting on beaches before the sun kissed the horizon and laying underneath the stars. He remembers graduation under cherry blossoms and pressing his second button into your palm with red cheeks and shaking hands. 

There were tears, too. Anger as he realized he couldn’t, for once, be selfish and have both you and professional volleyball. Anger as you had cried and cried and cried in his arms because you were getting your degree in Miyagi and he was moving to Tokyo. Anger as you had suggested breaking things off because you knew that Kageyama was born for the court. To fly. 

And you had said, between tears, that Tokyo was his potential. Because you knew him, and you knew that he didn’t like texting and that he wasn’t good at communicating, but you somehow underestimated how much you meant to him. Then: you had stopped crying because Kageyama was crying. And you had never seen Kageyama cry. 

You were there when Kageyama started on the National Team, standing in the bleachers with the biggest smile he had ever seen, jumping as you turned to show him the Kageyama embroidered on the back of your jersey. You were there when he accepted his position on the Adlers, and watched their broadcasted games behind textbooks and journals and pencils from your dorm in Sendai. 

Kageyama was there when you called him sobbing because the pipes in your dorm leaked. He was there when you got fired from your part time job for slapping a customer. Begrudgingly, he was there when you asked him to have Oikawa Tooru sign twelve jerseys for your friends at university. And then, he was there when you graduated college, diploma in hand and a blush on your cheeks as you pressed your button into his palm even though you really weren’t supposed to do that. 

Now you’re in Tokyo, having accepted his slightly bashful request for you to move in with him– in a nice apartment on the fourteenth floor overlooking the city; because even though he didn’t really like heights, he knew you loved city lights and people-watching. And if he had to cover his face when he saw the nameplate next to your shared apartment that read Kageyama, well. You didn’t have to know that. 

He’s still on the street, and he’s still holding his grocery bag, but his eyes are firm because he really wants to make your last name Kageyama. 

So he makes a phone call. 

“Tanaka-san,” He says before his former upperclassman can react. “Where did you buy Shimizu’s ring?” 

[acid-ixx]

ch.1: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

if there was one thing you hated more than the crime-filled streets of gotham, it would be empty promises.

when was the last time they attended your birthday? or your school ceremonies? or any special event that meant for you to be the center of attention?

plot twist, there was no last time, or a time before that or any day that they were there for you.

not your eldest brother, dick, not your dead brother, jason, of course tim wouldn't be there for you, damian's absence is a given, not even your sisters would come, and most especially not your father, bruce wayne.

you never wrote wayne as your last name. in every test, it would always be your mother's last name. in every document that you had to fill, you would violently scratch in the name of your father, wishing it wasn't required at all so you wouldn't have to hang your head in shame everytime someone looks at you incredulously for having the bruce wayne as your father but never once appearing to be with you.

you can't recall a time you had called him your dad, or even considered him as one.

if you could count the times you have seen him in person, it wouldn't even fill ten fingers. even interviewers and paparazzi have more luck in coming across him than you would, his child.

it sucks, really, how despite having nearly sharing the same age as tim, you never once saw him outside of his room. you thought you would've been the closest to him, but the most you have seen him was when you were watching the news with the "new" robin popping up, or worse; when bruce would be seen guiding tim through the paparazzi and not you. alfred had to drag you away from the tv that day because you were already suffering through a panic attack just seeing those two act so close; ripping your hair out just from watching the news wasn't a good way to cope.

you remember being so jealous of him, of how bruce would always spend time with him and not you. it made you wonder, were you special enough? tim is so brilliant, you could admit. and you were, too, having enough comprehensibility as a child to find out they were vigilantes a year or two after living in the manor— but you weren't good enough like tim. you weren't cut out to be like a detective or a fighter.

it was no wonder why bruce chose them over you.

it came to you in the form of talking to tim that had you discovering that no one ever mentions your name inside the house, proving it to be true when tim had hesitated calling your name and even stuttered through pronouncing it. and then he left after finding you were of no use to help him. alfred had to stifle your sobbing after tim left the room, allowing you to cry on his chest whilst you sat beside him.

(name) wayne was so, so lonely.

you would've accepted their absence long ago, but you were a stupid child who needed care and reassurance because your mother left you for good at the age of five. you were too naive into thinking you would receive the same love from your family just like the other kids in elementary would. you were a child who expected too highly of your father, thinking that he would pick you up from school with that picture perfect photographed smile of his and kiss your forehead and tell you that you did a great job at school today.

it was your teachers who would be the one having to walk you up the stage whenever you achieved an award. alfred would be too busy sometimes to attend your school ceremonies because he had to assist bruce with missions. of course, you understood his priorities. after all, he tried his hardest to make you feel less lonely inside the mansion, it wasn't enough but he was there at least.

it was long ago that you stopped praying for your family to attend at least one of your birthdays.

it's ironic, really, for a child to prep and plan for their own celebration just to hope that a single member of their family to even walk by the kitchen and join them in on their already lonesome celebration.

too bad everybody only goes to the kitchen when alfred cooks for them. who would want to taste sadness in a sloppily made birthday cake, right? nobody, not even you would have the appetite to eat your cake with the knowledge that it was you who had to put all the effort to bake it because you didn't want alfred to feel obligated to. knowing nobody would celebrate birthdays with you, save for alfred, it was expected that you started to prefer cupcakes.

because then you wouldn't be scolded for making such a mess.

you never cooked family meals after the incident where nobody came and to not waste food, you had to bring in large containers to bring to school so you could celebrate your birthday there.

it was there that you find more solace in your small group of friends compared to the desolate rooms of the mansion. your family celebrates holidays together as a whole, but you never once attended after that one time where everybody had forgotten to get you a gift for christmas, save for alfred who gave you a bracelet (one that you cherished deeply). you only smiled weakly and hopelessly, sneaking into your room before the family dinner.

it was alfred again who bought you leftovers and sat on your bed for an hour to encourage you that there's still more christmas's to go.

you never believed what he said. not anymore.

there was a period of time where you hated them more than anything, blamed them for everything and became more rebellious, purposely failing tests, fighting your classmates and disrespecting teachers in hopes that for once your father would bat an eye on you. that only resulted in you being taken out of the school and being transferred into another, for a behavioral reform is what alfred stated to you when you annoyed him for answers.

damian started to bully you a bit more harder after that incident, calling you immature and childish, a weakling, an attention seeker. how someone at your age should've known better. you were convinced that he was relishing in the heartbroken glare you gave him, ignoring the way his eyes widened momentarily at your reaction before sneering and walking away.

alfred gently scolded you, but you were too choked up and instead you almost tripped running inside your bedroom, locking yourself in for what seems like hours.

you don't want to remember the immense breakdown you had that evening too, screaming on your blankets and destroying your things and hurting yourself because... because you had lost your old friends for nothing! your caring teachers, your academic progress, everything! every single thing for an ounce of attention! because he didn't have enough energy to come with you to the guidance counselor and he only had you transfer out so you wouldn't ruin the wayne's reputation!

you hate him, you hate bruce fucking wayne so much and you hate clinging onto their empty promises and sorry's to make it up for you. you hate how their promises were never even said directly to you, you hate how alfred was your only source of hope for a medium of communication.

you hate them all.

and worst of all, you hate yourself for drowning in hope. for wishing you were physically stronger so you could at least bond with them through training. for dreaming about a day where they could surprise you and told you they were just testing you and that you actually had worth inside this manor. for praying nightly that they'll smile at you like the heroes you see in tv rather than that of pity.

you wished there was a universe where gotham was safer, more protected with no criminals littering the streets. maybe then they would have more time to notice you crying every night, writing self destructive entries in your diary, sketching what would've been a happy family. they wouldn't have to wear their silly costumes to fight crime and instead would save you from your own demons.

if...

if you were brutally tortured and killed by the joker, or forced to choke on the fear toxin by the scarecrow— hell, even beaten to near death by some random goons; would they have given you a sliver of their love? would they finally look at you and save you from yourself?

because despite your resentment, you would never lie and say you didn't feel blessed that you were thrown to a family of talented individuals.

your drawings of a complete and happy family holding hands together and a diary filled with rants and fantasies of spending time with them proved just that.

you were blessed with them yet cursed at the same time to never reach the same level to be even considered part of their lives.

you were hopeless. you never amounted to anything. you were just, you.

thirteen years have passed by then, and in those years you were proud to say your development as a person, albeit slow, transformed you from a child that succumbed to neglect to an independent person who managed to maintain a comfortable circle of friends, a scholarship for a college far away from gotham, and an apartment of your own (you were a bit in debt due to having to pay for your own because no way in hell would you ask for your father for financial support).

allowance was scarce, your food supplies weren't infinite compared to back when you were living at the wayne manor, and you weren't greeted to michelin star restaurant meals cooked by alfred— but you were content, and that was enough.

though content translated to nightly breakdowns whilst finishing projects or writing essays, the point still stands! at least you had celebrated your eighteenth birthday with drunk smiles and your friends spoiling you to death when you had opened up about your first lonely years of life. everything was going well for you, truly.

you were so, so happy for the nice turn of events. and you wouldn't have made it so far if you hadn't slapped yourself out of the delusion that they actually cared for you.

look at you now! independent and with a life of your own! you'd give yourself a pat in the back.

you hadn't blocked them at all, but their contacts were empty (save for a few desperate messages that date back years ago) and you were fine with that. it's not like tim or bruce or barbara considered you important enough to be stalked. hah, as if!

alfred communicates with you time to time, reminding you to eat a complete meal rather than those one dollar priced noodles that tasted like pure salt. he told you he misses you a lot, you and your annoying, daily rants about life and school. he misses your awkward smile and when you would help him cook whenever the others aren't around. he misses it when you imitate his posh accent when you taste test his food and give commentary about it.

you miss him, too. growing up, you realized just how much effort alfred would exert just to spend a lot of his time on you.

now, he told you that you are still welcome to the manor whenever, and how he cleans your room weekly in case you'll visit him.

whenever you audio call with him, you'd tear up just a bit at the realization that alfred was more of a father figure than your own biological father. because he at least attended your graduation to make up for the other times he was unable to join you.

what's even better was that he gifted you something you had always wanted for your birthday. despite it being delivered to your door rather than him giving it to you face to face (since you had refused to give him your location and him respecting that decision at least), the heartfelt letter he left you was more than enough to let you cling onto pieces of your past. after all, it was him who greeted you by the door when you were first introduced into the family, bruce being too busy with paperwork that day when you were a measly five year old.

you had started to teasingly call him 'alfie' and a few more nickname after that, which results with a chuckle over the phone every time you had come up with a cheesy name for him whenever you get a wee bit irritated at his own way of making fun of you.

if only this was your life years ago, then maybe you wouldn't have been jealous of all your other friends and pushed them away that day, maybe you would learn that sometimes, family comes in the form of the people outside of your house rather than inside.

that reminds you, maybe you should reconnect with your old friends back in elementary and apologized for your sudden explosive behavior.

you were laying on your bed, phone in hand and opened your inst*gram app to stalk through the names you could remember. well... that was what you should've done, if not for the fact that a notification popped up the very moment you pressed on the search bar and you had accidentally opened a chat with your oldest brother, dick.

you would've ignored the desperate messages you have sent him from the past which all varied from inviting him to eat dinner with you or to at least join you to play in an arcade or anything to convince him to talk to you, all of which were unseen, if not for the fact that it was him who sent you a sudden "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" message, alongside a few more replies that spammed through your phone...

oh!

... that was enough to make you sit up and want to hurl.

dick grayson was a man of many talents. the mature eldest child, the ideal good leader despite his anger issues from time to time, and the same guy who set the standards high for the future robins. he is bruce's greatest achievement.

it was safe to say that if not for the support of many, then he would've suffered so many falls and would've never been strong enough to stand up despite the pain and continue his fights. nightwing was what many superheroes strive to be, an image of light in a grove of darkness such as gotham.

so why was it that he felt like he has failed so deeply right now?

inside your room, dick stands with furrowed brows. it felt too clean to look used. your furniture was polished and look untouched, the lights were too bright and the windows were bolted shut. there were no signs of life other than the notebooks and sketchbooks that were neatly tucked on the middle of the bed and the trinkets that scatter through your desk.

dick stalks through the room, careful to not make a noise as he walks over to the closet, opening it and finding nothing.

he bites his lips at the implication that this was probably the second time he visited your room and how it was also the longest time he remained here. compared to his other siblings, you were the one he noticed the least and... now he feels bad for dismissing you.

didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago?

damn it, he was way too focused on his mission that night and ended up ditching and forgetting you! oh god, dick facepalmed and clenched his teeth, seething in some air because no fucking way did he actually remember to feed damian's dog, titus, the same day but forgot to take you out for an important event...

it occurred to him that that was the same day you scored a perfect on "the hardest test of my life!" you had bragged to him awkwardly when he wasn't listening nor looking and you, wanting to celebrate what was a small achievement for dick, chose him to spend time with you!

dick had to carefully breath through his mouth then gulp down the shame he feels right now. he- he has no time to focus on the past but rather the present. he has to find out why the hell is your room so lifeless, yeah... then he'll make it up to you today, definitely.

huh?

is it just him, but why does the room seem so small? it looked like it was meant to be for a kid. clearly, there wasn't enough space for a growing individual like you... did bruce not provide you with a bigger bedroom? ah, dick would definitely tell bruce to relocate you to a bigger room, the current one is too small for even a dog in a manor to sleep in.

dick doesn't want to admit it at all, but... he hasn't seen you for the past few months, or not all, really. sure, he had only recently visited the manor since he's bludhaven's vigilante now, but even through his time in gotham he had never seen you other than the times you pulled his sleeves from back when you were a child.

back when you were a child.

how old are you now? you were so small back then, innocent too. he can recall your curious eyes, your chubby cheeks and the way you stutter through your words as you try to talk to him.

you were significantly younger than jason, and was adopted a week before tim was introduced to the family. he remembers you peeking through alfred's back, gleaming with curiousity and whispering to the butler if it was really the dick grayson. he smiled fondly at your dumbfounded expression, the way your mouth shaped into an "ohh," when he was the one who answered that, yes, it was him. then you whispered again if you can take have an autograph from him, to which he chuckled and told alfred that he'll help accompany you to your room.

when your five year old body tried to waddle closer to his body for an ounce of warmth when he had been guiding you up the stairs, that was also the first time he called you baby bird, with the way you coddled him so closely. his hands find itself patting your head, ruffling your hair and grinning as you both make your path through the halls.

he comes to immediately regret leaving you alone after he had introduced you to your room, remembering his duties as a vigilante than that of a brother.

but despite his early memories of you, he wants to see his baby sibling all grown up now.

had it really been years?

when was the last time you ever had a full-on conversation with him?

was there even a time that he had approached you by himself?

he had always called you baby bird after the first time you meet because of the age gap you two shared. the rare times he acknowledges you, you gave him that look filled with such adoration, like you were proud of him for being your older brother. why did he not notice you?

oh, his baby bird...

dick gulped, trying to ease his shivering by sitting on your neatly folded blankets and taking a worn diary in his hand, one at the bottom stack of books. well, if it was a personal diary then maybe you would've hidden it better, right? he figures since it was all placed on the center of the bed like a piece of treasure that... it would be alright to take just a glimpse.

to confirm if you still see him as your favorite brother.

dick's heartbeat spiked, hoping your entries would be filled with, he doesn't know, anything that didn't implicate some sort of hatred for the family, for him. hoping that despite his lack of attention towards you, that there would still be a spark of love for him. if what he thinks was actually true then... he doesn't know what to do with himself.

he flips through the first page, noting how it was bulkier than the others. the paper was filled with glittery decorations, sequence beads and cheap stickers sparkling at every angle the light hits. it was meant to be a design for the 'front cover' of the notebook, colors blended in a cacophony of rainbows and butterflies and flowers beyond the messy calligraphy that merely states "(name)'s diary!"

dick stifles a grin just from skimming through at the amount of mistakes and erasures, clearly written by the the younger version of you; naive to the world and its cruelty. he commends your creativity, his eyes softening at the few doodles that were written on the corners of the pages.

you're just too adorable for your own good, so much so that the thumping in dick's heart beats louder and louder, ears wringing uncomfortable inside your unventilated bedroom. but he just couldn't rip his eyes away from the diary, daydreaming about how proud you must've been when designing your own diary. he could picture your wide eyes, shy and harmless, and your feet kicking back and forth whilst you decorate your stuff.

everything was what he expected it to be on the first few pages of the diary. all your little rants about your daily life, your eargerness to meet your entire family from your father's side, and the hurt you experienced from your mother's sudden abandonment.

he would've skipped through another diary, one that lacked design and color, save for the name plastered on the front, if not for the grim undertones at every end of your entries despite the child-like manner it was written in.

it all started with "i wish to see my father soon and my big brother dick again!", "alfred told me my father can't come to the parent-teacher conference, he says he's in a veryyy important meeting :( but alfred would come!", "dick told me he can't help me with my science project but he promise he'll help me with something else later!" which halfway through the diary, your style fluctuates and lesser effort was exhausted on the writing.

one entry in particular, written on the last page of your diary, shattered a sliver of hope within dick, his breathing momentarily ceased from reading through your sentences; uncharacteristic of you, too mature for someone at the age of ten to write.

"XX/XX/XXXX.

dear diary, it's my tenth birthday today. i celebrated with my friends at school. they told me i always look down whenever it's my birthday. they think that bruce would throw a fancy celebration for me. i tried to hide my laughter from them. it's a really funny joke. i haven't seen him for months. i told dick that he was invited but i don't think he remembers it's my birthday today. alfred told me to come out of my room, he said he cooked my favorite dinner, that he's sorry he got my present late, but i don't want get out of my room. i heard dick is gonna watch a movie with tim later. i don't feel so good, my chest hurts, but i don't want to get out right now.

i'll eat the cupcake tomorrow."

it had been nearly two hours since dick had sat on your bed, eyes dilating whilst reading through your first diary. the cold season had already pricked his skin, but his entire body felt so unnaturally warm, a warmth that scorches him, searing deep into flesh. a lump had form in his throat, accompanying the hellish throbbing of his heart.

"fuck..." he brought his fingers to his head, carefully massaging his forehead but it relieves nothing. he wants to see you right now— he needs to talk to you. god, he has to apologize, he needs to see what you look like right now, needs to know if you're alright.

you're clearly not.

he has to oppress the urge to punch the walls, reminding himself that it's your room he's in and if he damages your already delicate property, then he's proving himself worse than he already is.

he rushes to grab another diary, the one at the top of the pile, skipping to the end of the page.

nothing. all the entries were months ago, all written in vague detail like you were starting to hide secrets. his teeth grinds against each other, frustration seeping through his veins.

he needs to— shit, he needs to find you right now. he needs to find his baby bird and make up for the all bullshit him and his family had done. if you were gone for months, even years; he doesn't even want to think about it.

but how?!

there were no signs of you. anything written your diary, your drawings, the trinkets on your bedside table— they signal no clues whatsoever, all dating back to months, even years. it's not possible at all, for nobody to notice your disappearance. dick would've noticed sooner. he should've noticed sooner. oh, he doesn't even want to think about the dangers that await you outside the mansion. with how naive you were about the outside world, you wouldn't last at all.

his baby bird wouldn't survive gotham's streets, especially not when winter was nearing.

think, grayson, think...

his phone!

he immediately reaches into his pockets to grab his phone, clammy fingers swifly encoding his password and opening his contacts.

your number was the quickest to find, it was the only one without an icon of you and an endearing nickname. he makes a mental note to change that soon and replaced your default name to your nickname.

then, without hesitation, he typed, "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" sending the message without rereading, foot tapping impatiently against the floor as he scrolls through all your previous messages.

messages that he should've replied to with the same level of enthusiasm as you. skimming through the past, unseen texts as your motivation began to dwindle the further he refused to reply back. he promises he'll never make you feel invisible again.

seconds feel like hours for him, as he blows raspberries to pass the time, too concentrated an ounce of a reply to even notice the entirely new presence inside the room.

it's alright to call you, yes? after all, dick just wanted to check in with his baby bird and see if you're doing swell and dandy and... safe without him...!

his thumbs pressed on the call button before he could think through his actions, his other hand runs through his hair, sweat running down his forehead as if he had ran a marathon.

he waited, and waited, and waited until the call beeped and provided its automated response. he calls you again but the line immediately cuts off, he tries to spam you with more messages but they weren't delivered.

you blocked him.

fuck, he messed up big time. he needs to get to the batcave. he needs to find your fucking location before it's too late. dick needs to see you again before he loses it.

but before he could carefully place your sketchbooks back to its rightful place, he sees a silhouette at the corner of his eyes; short figure, arms crossed, and a sneer on his eyes already tells him who it was.

damian wayne.

he forgot to train with damian today.

but it doesn't matter, damian has to see it for himself— what made dick so disheveled, so delirious. damian has to finally see just how much of a wonderful sibling you are.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: this was 4,600+ words and it drained the energy out of me. it was supposed to be posted tomorrow but i was too motivated !! i'm also quite proud of this chapter. it was a pain characterizing dick grayson and the reader. i really hope this is as good as the prequel because it's 3am right now and writing dick's part was a pain in the ass ^^' as always, please do comment or send asks if you like it for quicker updates!!!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @alishii, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @deadinside-09, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa (shoutout to her specifically because i got motivated from their comment!)

[forlix]

· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date. 

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it exceptionally funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

jisung turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and jisung look at each other and sigh. jisung takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice: “you might be the sexiest person on earth."

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck. 

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence. 

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips. 

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade. 

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper

© forlix (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[earthtooz]

x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous. 

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm. 

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him. 

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse. 

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye. 

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.” 

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture. 

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug. 

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you. 

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious. 

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup. 

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.” 

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.  

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.” 

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!” 

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why. 

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!” 

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate. 

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?” 

“No one. Now get lost.” 

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.” 

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love. 

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe. 

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar? 

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you. 

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over. 

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression. 

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.” 

“What guy?” 

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.” 

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.” 

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.” 

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him. 

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?” 

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile. 

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh. 

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.” 

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?” 

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?” 

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands. 

“So why aren’t you apologising?” 

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in. 

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner? 

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest. 

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.  

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs. 

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?” 

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party. 

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.” 

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue. 

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad? 

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[rae-writes]

OnlyFantoms?? pt.II

om dateables/sides x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw, gn!reader with skirt wearing (raphael), lingerie wearing (diavolo), online sharing

synopsis : lets see what the new latest trending porn videos are

a/n: MWAHAHAHA IT'S FUCKING HERE

brothers ver.

The maroon fabric of your babydoll lingerie was rumpled, tearing not even a second later from how ironclad Diavolo’s grip was. One hand had the lace fisted, using it to yank you back on his cock, while the other was wrapped around your throat, veins highlighted and muscles flexing each time he effortlessly lifted your body and slammed it back down at the rough pace he was fucking you. Your legs were spread wide over his straining thighs, body just barely covered by the sheer material that adorned your sweaty body, hands white-knuckling his horns with your nails scratching along the golden ornaments . Each time skin met skin, it echoed in the room— adding to the sensual sight of the morning light reflecting off the golden floors, walls- the regal throne the two of you were seated in. His sounds were muffled from the way his head was buried in your neck, no doubt adding more marks to the already bruise-littered skin. Your own head was tilted back against his shoulder, his fingers squeezing visibly at your throat before two of them pushed past your parted mouth, making your high pitched moans turn choked. His rough pace got even more animalistic, feral growl escaping him as your body tensed, milking his cock as you came, pushing him past that edge too— and the video cuts.

Where royalty sits | 0:10 seconds | 112.k views | 109.k likes | 100.k comments 

TEN WHOLE SECONDS OF ABSOLUTE GOODNESS

Is this even legal to watch?? Cause if not, I’m happily packing my bags for jail

Typing this comment from my grave 

*eats phone*

Amazing day to be a Devildom citizen folks 

��

Hidden underneath the castle’s foyer stairs, the golden fractures of light shift as each of your bodies move. You were on your knees, thighs flexing, as you bounced up and down— riding Barbatos’ tail. The appendage forced itself deeper and deeper until the camera picked up on the arch of your back, the shimmer of your nails (painted in his colors) digging into his thighs, leaving behind wrinkles in the usually pristine black slacks. Gloved hands were tangled in your hair, gripping tighter the more his composure began to waver. The guided bobbing of your head went from leisure to almost desperate and then back again; after a particularly stressful day, he just couldn’t decide what he wanted. Only murmurs of praise left the royal steward, as opposed to your choked moans and whimpers and occasional gasps of his name when you came up for air before swallowing him down again. There was a brief moment in which he cupped the back of your head and shoved you all the way down- pausing- when footsteps ascended the stairs you were both underneath. Once it was quiet again, he pulled your head back with a caress of your hair and a soft apology, fucking you with his tail at a more rapid pace, insisting you needed to cum first. With you melting at his ministrations, he begins fucking your mouth, too, grunting almost inaudibly; the second your body wracked with your orgasm, he followed suit— and though only your backside view could be seen, the sounds of swallowing were crystal clear. With a low chuckle from Barbatos, and a breathy giggle from you, the screen goes black. 

Off duty | 0:30 seconds | 97.k views | 92.k likes | 88.k comments 

This is gonna be the next big fever dream, come lay your eyes on it while you can-

Mouth? Dropped. Eyes? Rolled. Drool? Leaking. Hotel? Corvo. 

B A R B A T O S ? !

This is the best day of my life

asdfghjkl

†

Scraping of wood against marble tile echoed faintly as the entirety of Mephisto’s desk moved inch by inch. The force he was pounding into you created small thudding noises, your clothes dulling the sound of skin slapping, followed by sharp grunts as he worked to keep the relentless pace. Lights of the newspaper club’s office highlighted your bodies, leaving nothing hidden as he bends you into an even deeper arch, face buried in the mahogany desk. Newspapers- published and uncompleted drafts- are crumpled underneath your hands; he couldn’t care less, though, not when you’re moaning and crying out his name like you are. It’s clear he tries to show some decorum, but the rare sight of his demon form screams how disheveled you’re making him— tails coiled around your waist, horns pressing into your shoulder, sharp nails digging jagged lines into the wood of his desk. An enchanted quill is frantically scribbling in the background, no doubt writing down what was happening into a page of the upcoming newspaper draft; depending on whether or not Mephisto remembers- or cares- he might just leave the article in. The thought actually has him whining, fucking into you a bit faster, because he’d love to see everyone’s reactions once they read the damn paper— knowing he had you right under everyone’s noses. A quick tug of your hair to pull you into a messy kiss that the camera can’t see and he’s spilling his cum into you- dragging you off the ledge with him- and pressing his body flush against yours. You stay trapped like that for a few seconds, quietly laughing and teasing him, before he huffs and pulls back as you both try to make yourself presentable again when the video ends. 

Extra, Extra | 3:25  minutes | 93.k views | 89.k likes | 84.k comments

Front page, baby. FRONT! PAGE!

Got his priorities down pat

What goes down in the news office doesn’t stay in the news office

Get that nOBLE DIck MC

Never thought I’d hear Mephisto whine— 

†

White linen curls around your arms, clenched between your fingers, pillowing your head, delicately shielding the parts you didn’t want too exposed— all while the light in Simeon’s room bathes you in a replicated golden hour. His head is buried deep between your thighs, messy hair brushing your skin at each movement. One of his hands is keeping your left thigh flat against the bed, squeezing at the fat of it, while the other is subtly shoved underneath his body as he fucks his fist. With the leg that isn’t pinned down, your calf is resting over his shoulder, keeping him impossibly close; the sounds coming from him are muffled, as he’s barely able to breathe properly, but they’re desperate and needy, echoed by the mindless ‘please’s and praise he’s babbling out. The sheets covering his own body from view only hide his hips down to his mid thigh, giving the perfect- defined- view of his arched back and the flexing muscles rippling underneath smooth skin as he thrusts into the pleasure. There are faint reddened lines trailing along his shoulders and barely visible hickies on his neck, showing that, clearly, this hadn’t been the beginning of the night. It can also be seen in the way his hips stutter with overstimulation, toes curling at the sensation, even if he can’t stop because he still craves the release. It’s timed with the pace he’s fucking you with his tongue, moans harmonizing with yours, getting louder and breathier and a little whinier before he’s practically crying out an ‘I’m cumming!’. Not even a second later, both of your thighs are snapping closed around his head, trembling, as you follow. The come down is soft and sweet, whispered words and gentle caresses, with a murmured suggestion for a bubble bath just as the video cuts. 

Worship hour | 2:30 minutes | 86.k views | 84.k likes | 78.k comments 

I feel the grace of the celestial realm 

PHEW 

GOD AND DAMN 

We’ve ascended guys— 

Where can I get an angel 

†

The scattered, organized, yet messy sight of school books, miscellaneous supplies, and the fact that you were in your uniform made it obvious this was one of RAD’s many closets. Raphael was sitting on top of an extra desk, legs spread rather wide as you sat on top of him; your skirt rode up around your hips, but his hands groped and squeezed your ass to shield it from view. He guided you at a quick, needy pace as you grinded against his clothed cock, sometimes jerking his hips up to meet the movements. The normally quiet and aloof Angel was panting and gasping, and if you listened closely, you could hear muffled whines every now and then when you moved at a certain angle. The sloppy sounds of wet kissing and tongues tangling seemed to echo in the small room, even despite his whisper of ‘have to be quiet’— in fact, he was more vocal than you, commanding you to go faster, asking you not to stop. Even the shadows passing under the door didn’t deter him from wanting you. The bell signaling class was about to begin made you pause without thinking, but he gave you no time to think: he grabbed you right up and twisted your bodies around until you were laying back on the desk, legs around his waist. With no room to barely breathe in between, he began fucking himself against you like an animal in heat, breathlessly apologizing and announcing he was gonna cum. With a few more rough thrusts, you can see his body shudder and melt over top of you— and the visible wet stain on the front of his pants as he gently helps you off the desk and fixes your clothes, suggesting a quick clean up spell so you can go to class, before the video ends.

[Can’t] resist temptation | 1:10 minutes | 88.k views | 82.k likes | 75.k comments 

PHEW PART FUCKING TWO

His veiny hands make me ajsaljdkd

Are all the exchange students always this hot??

I will take a shower of spears to see this in person 

Mc is my hero 

†

Whatever device was recording had to be enchanted, as the screen was divided perfectly to show the inside of the common room, where the seven brothers all lounged, and the hallway wall just outside, where Solomon had you hiked up against it. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, only a peek of his lips showing. The bottom half of your face that was in frame is covered by his hand, fingers digging into your jaw to keep you quiet. The only thing covering your body was his starry cloak; the fabric fell off your shoulder, showing off the many hickies and bite marks adorning your skin. Your body bounced upwards at every sharp thrust— he was unforgiving with his pace, frame flush against yours as he fucked you deep. The audio barely picked up on the ragged pants falling from his mouth, the debauched praises that he was damn near singing as he had his way with you, all while being ten feet away from the brothers. The muscles in his arm flexed as he held you up, fingers marking bruises into the skin he was gripping. You raked your hands through his sweat-soaked hair, tugging and pushing his head up until you had your mouth against his. A barely audible cry of his name reached the camera as your back arched, fingers pressing just as bruisingly into his back. He finally stuttered in his pace, mouth falling open; he came with his tongue tangled with yours, accidentally having let out a hiss when you moaned aloud. Lucifer, who had been glancing up occasionally, as if he thought he heard something, immediately stood just as all the others’ heads snapped up. With a desperate kiss, Solomon opened a portal and carried you right through, leaving the brothers to hastily round the corner and begin shouting, before the video cuts.

Claim staking | 4:45 minutes | 91.k views | 88.k likes | 84.k comments 

A good section of the comments is just hate from the brothers, I— 

That sly, sexy, smug little fucker

I wanna be between the two of them 

Sorcerer man hot 

You could physically feel the charge in the air through the phone when the brothers figured it out

[hoe4hotchner]

hiii!! :3

i saw you asking for fluff requests so... perhaps it's cold out, and the reader is out with hotch (maybe going out to a crime scene or smth) and the readers shivering and hotch looks awfully warm in his coat, so ofc the reader just goes up and asks for a hug! (just to warm up ofc. no other reason to ask your hot boss for a hug 🤭) (maybe the reader manages to slide into his jacket)

tysm! <33

The Jacket Incident | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader CW: it's just cold and you were stupid enough to not wear a warm jacket. Also reader is shorter than Hotch. Fluff.

WC: 0.7k

Why is reader literally me in this one. I'm so dumb and not good at staying warm.

           The wind howled through the dark, desolate street, biting through the thin layers of your windbreaker as you and Hotch made your way back to the crime scene. You’d been out there for what felt like hours, and no amount of walking had kept the cold from seeping into your bones. Your fingers tingled with numbness despite being shoved deep into your pockets, and a shiver ran down your spine for the hundredth time.

           Hotch, of course, looked completely unbothered. He stood a few feet away, his demeanor calm and composed despite the freezing temperature. You couldn’t help but envy him a little. While you were practically freezing, he seemed like he hadn’t even noticed the cold.

           As you shifted from one foot to the other, trying to get some feeling back into your toes, you watched him finish his conversation. The way he stood, tall and commanding, only seemed to emphasize the fact that he was probably the warmest person in your vicinity. His jacket, the heavy, padded one you both wore during cases in colder climates, was unzipped - wide open, practically inviting you inside.

           You bit your lip, glancing around, trying to work up the nerve to do what you’d been thinking about for the last ten minutes. He was your boss, but more importantly, he was your boyfriend, which gave you a bit more confidence. And the thought of his warmth was too tempting to ignore. Bracing yourself, you took a few steps closer until you were standing beside him, shivering dramatically to make your point.

           Hotch turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he glanced down at you. "Are you cold?" he asked, his voice gentle, but there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes.

           You nodded, giving him your best pitiful look. "Freezing," you muttered, teeth chattering for good measure.

           Hotch’s gaze softened, and he let out a small sigh, his eyes flicking to your jacket before returning to your face. For a moment, you thought he was going to suggest you head back to the car, but instead, he smiled - just a tiny, private smile.

           Without a word, he opened his arms, his jacket still hanging open, and gave a slight nod toward the space between them. "Come here," he said, his tone warm and inviting, holding the edges of his jacket.

           Your heart skipped a beat at the offer, and without hesitating, you stepped closer, sliding your way into his open jacket. As soon as you were enveloped by his warmth, the world outside seemed to disappear. The heat of his body instantly chased away the cold, and you sighed in relief, nestling against his chest.

           Hotch’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, the thick jacket falling around your shoulders like a protective barrier from the wind. He smelled like his usual aftershave, mixed with the faint scent of coffee and something distinctly him - it was comforting. His hands settled gently on your back, holding you close, and you felt his chin rest lightly on the top of your head.

           "You should’ve said something sooner," he murmured, his voice rumbling through his chest.

You grinned, your cheek pressed against his shirt. "Figured you’d be too busy being all stern and in charge to notice."

           Hotch chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you, and you could feel the coldness in your body start to melt away. "I always notice," he replied quietly, his voice a little softer than usual, the warmth in his tone matching the heat of his body.

           You snuggled further into his chest, your hands slipping around his waist as you relaxed into his embrace. The cold air seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the steady beat of his heart and the comforting weight of his arms around you.

           "Thanks for sharing your warmth," you mumbled, your words muffled against him.

           "Anytime," Hotch replied, his hand giving your back a gentle rub. "I’m always here to keep you warm."

           The two of you stood there for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, you were a sight for sore eyes. The wind and the cold now just background noise.

[make-me-imagine]

Camera Roll while dating Shang-Chi

A/N: I can picture the 2nd photo in the middle row from when they stole your phone lol

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Marvel+Shang-Chi Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovy-lady, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @gay-and-ready-to-cry, @flourishandblotts-inc, @spuffyfan394, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @cs-please, @a-lumos-in-the-nox, @creativitybeware, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @skylions-den, @dominos-palast, @pockyandme, @soultrysworld, @merlin-dahlia

[starsinscript]

lando + squishing his cute little face when he wakes up from a little nap cause he looks so precious with his pouty lips and half lidded eyes

I LIKE TO THINK OF YOU AS MINE! ln4

(lando norris x gn!fwb!reader)

(summary. how can you not want lando, when he's sleeping on your chest and looking so angelic?)

(notes. new post layout!!! thank you for the request nonnie!)

(warnings. there is one line of dialogue but it's only 400 words, so.)

(song. bruise - between friends.)

(masterlist) (navigation)

You shouldn't be here anymore, you know this. The digital clock on his nightstand has been steadily creeping to midnight. Moonlight dances on his exposed skin, the curtains that usually cover the balcony door bellow in the cold night air. He feels like a weighted blanket, his body cloaking yours. Lando's head rests comfortably on your chest, twisted so you can see the part of his lips and the fresh scar on his nose. You scratch his scalp, and he lets out a sleepy hum, unconsciously nuzzling into your hand.

He had gotten sleepy during a kiss; after calling you to come over. Ten minutes later he was mumbling under his breath about how nice your heartbeat was. How relaxing the sound felt. Then he was out. You should've left once you knew he was asleep, but instead you opted to scroll through your phone while your nails absentmindedly combed through his hair. It's too lovey dovey, you know this. You would've stopped by now if you hadn't felt a flutter in your heart at his peaceful figure. Plus, you know getting up would disrupt his sleep, something you knew he needed. All the traveling got to him, and you have sleepy voicemails and tired texts to prove it.

He shifts suddenly, as a breeze passes through his bedroom. His eyes flutter, and he lifts his head. Half lidded eyes stare at you, lips parted as his sleepy brain tries to work. You cup his cheeks, his lips squishing together into a pout. He murmurs your name, a soft question as if he's dreaming. "Go back to sleep, Lan," You coo, kissing his soft pout before brushing a few messy curls from his eyes. He huffs, letting his head drop onto your chest. He cuddles into the soft fabric of your shirt with a soft hum. Your hand trails down onto his neck, playing with the small hairs there. You stare at him with love and affection, which you know you should not hold. But, you get comfortable in his plush pillows, grabbing his comforter and throwing it over the two of you. Because, if you can't have domestic bliss like this in the future, at least you can have it now.