#trying to express the feeling i got from standing on a street corner...

[ivyues]

Chasing Yesterday | 3 | - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x lost connection trainee friend

Years after splitting paths, Bang Chan didn't expect a simple text to bring an old friend – and old feelings – back into his life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A few weeks into your songwriting exchanges, with Chris texting at the oddest hours, late-night texts became a common occurrence. One particular night, around 2:37 AM, your phone buzzed. Squinting at the screen, you saw a message from him:

"What do you think about this for the chorus?" followed by a snippet of lyrics, raw but laced with his unmistakable poetic charm.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you typed back: "Ever the insomniac, I see."

His reply came almost instantly: "Only when inspiration hits. Or maybe it's your fault for making me think about this song all the time."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you found yourself smiling at the screen longer than necessary. "Well, I can’t be held responsible for your midnight genius," you quipped.

There was a pause before his next message arrived. "Do you ever share your lyrics with anyone else, or just me?"

The question was casual on the surface, but something about it made your stomach flutter. You hesitated, trying to read between the lines, before responding: "Not really, just you. Why, are you keeping tabs?"

His reply had a playful edge, but the undertone was clear: "Maybe I am. Hard to keep up when you probably have someone else keeping you up at night too."

You blinked at the screen, your heart skipping a beat as the subtle question sank in. Was he asking what you thought he was asking?

"Nope, no one else," you typed quickly, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "Just you and your insomniac ramblings."

For a moment, there was no reply, and you wondered if you’d imagined the implication. Then your phone lit up again.

"Good to know," he wrote simply, followed by a winking emoji.

The fluttering in your chest lingered long after, his subtle words replaying in your mind as you turned your attention back to his lyrics – though focusing on the song was suddenly a lot harder.

-----

Weeks later, you found yourselves standing in front of the shop you used to frequent as trainees. The neighborhood had changed, but the nostalgia was undeniable. The darkness of the night making it feel as if time was turned back.

"I can't believe that convenience store is still here," you said, pointing to a brightly lit corner across the street.

"That place got us through some rough days," he said, smiling as he nudged your shoulder playfully. "I bet they still have those awful instant noodles you used to love."

"You mean the ones you kept stealing from me?" you shot back, bumping him back.

After a brief silence, he pointed ahead to a street corner. "Remember that time we got caught sneaking back late from practice? Right there."

"Oh, how could I forget? You tripped over nothing, and the instructor thought we were drunk."

"In my defense, I was exhausted," he said, holding up his hands. "And maybe a little lightheaded from laughing at your terrible jokes."

"My terrible jokes?" you shot back, raising an eyebrow. "I’m the reason you survived those trainee days, don’t even lie."

He grinned, bumping your shoulder gently. "Okay, maybe you were the reason. But you owe me for all those times I covered for you when you skipped warm-ups."

"You’re never going to let that go, are you?"

"Not a chance," he said, smirking.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, content to walk quietly in the comforting familiarity of the nightern neighborhood. The sounds of crickets and the occasional car passing by filled the silence.

At one point, he took to balancing on the edge of the curb, arms outstretched like a tightrope walker.

"You haven't changed," you teased, watching him wobble dramatically.

"Sure I have," he said, hopping back onto the pavement. He glanced at you, his expression soft. “You know, my members keep bugging me about you."

"Yeah?" you asked, hiding your smile.

"Yeah. They're dying to meet the person who's been making me stay up all night."

"And here I thought it was the music," you quipped playfully, but feeling a flutter of warmth as his laugh echoed in the quiet street.

As you came to a halt, a quiet hum filled the space between you – the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of a car engine. But it all faded as he lifted his hand, his fingers brushing tentatively against your cheek. The touch was warm, steady, and it made your heart stutter in your chest.

"I’ve been wanting to do this for a while," he said, almost in a whisper. His thumb gently traced the curve of your cheekbone, and his expression was so open, so unguarded, that it left you breathless.

"You always overthink," you teased softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray how your pulse raced.

He smiled faintly, the corners of his lips twitching as he leaned in, slow and deliberate. His eyes searched for yours, giving you all the time in the world to pull away. But you didn’t move. The space between you felt electric, pulling you closer and closer.

And then, as his lips hovered just a breath away from yours, you closed the gap. Your lips met his in a soft, delicate kiss, barely there but enough to make the world tilt on its axis.

When you drew back, your faces lingered close, his hand still cradling your face as if he was afraid to let go. His eyes fluttered open, and the awe in his gaze sent a fresh wave of warmth through you.

"I..." He laughed softly, a little breathless. "I really hope I can keep you in my life this time."

You smiled, your cheeks flushed as you covered his hand with yours. "Guess that means you’ll just have to try harder."

His grin widened, the playful glint returning to his eyes as he let his hand drop to your side. And as you resumed walking, his fingers found yours, intertwining them as if they’d always belonged there.

-----

One night, when you were halfway between sleep and wakefulness, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. Groaning softly, you reached for it, blinking at the screen to see Chris’ name glowing against the darkness.

Without hesitation, you swiped to answer. “Hello?” your voice came out groggy, but warm enough to convey you didn’t mind the late-night call.

“Hey,” his voice came through, quiet but heavy. “Sorry for waking you... again.”

“It’s fine,” you murmured, sitting up slightly and tucking the blanket around your shoulders. “What’s wrong? Studio night?”

He sighed, and the sound alone made your chest tighten. “Yeah. I’ve been here for hours, and there is this song for the new album—" He paused. “It’s not coming together. I’ve tried everything, but something’s missing, and I just... I didn’t know who else to call.”

Your heart softened at his admission. He sounded worn out, like he’d been carrying the weight of it alone for far too long. “I’m glad you called me,” you said gently. “Tell me about the song.”

“It’s supposed to feel big—emotional—but also grounded. Right now, it just feels... unfinished.” His frustration was evident, each word edged with self-doubt.

“Why don’t you play it for me?” you suggested, lying back down and settling the phone beside your ear on the pillow.

There was a pause, and you could almost hear him hesitating. “You sure? It’s... pretty rough.”

“I don’t care. I want to hear it,” you said with a smile he couldn’t see, but maybe he could hear it in your voice.

“Okay, hang on.”

The faint shuffling of him setting things up came through, followed by the opening notes of the track. The sound was distant through the phone’s speaker, but even like this, you could feel the rawness in it. The melody was beautiful – aching and layered – but you could hear what he meant. It wasn’t quite complete.

When it ended, silence hung between you for a moment before you spoke. “It’s good.”

“Yeah, but it’s not enough,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what it needs.”

You thought for a moment, closing your eyes as you replayed the song in your mind. “What if you added something more... organic? Like a vocal sample? Something raw to balance the electronic layers?”

The line went quiet, and you worried you’d overstepped. But then he exhaled a soft laugh, the tension in his voice easing. “We can try it.”

For the next little while, you stayed on the line as he tinkered with the track, bouncing ideas back and forth. He’d hum a phrase or play a new layer, asking for your thoughts before adding it in. Despite the late hour, there was a certain comfort in hearing the way his voice shifted from frustration to quiet focus as you worked together.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that made your chest feel lighter. 

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, and you hummed softly in response. “You’re welcome, Chris. I’m always here.”

“Still,” he continued, his tone soft but serious. “I owe you.”

The conversation lingered as he talked about the track, how much it meant to him, and the plans he had for it. His voice, steady and soothing, was the last thing you remembered clearly.

Somewhere between his words and the comfort of the moment, your eyelids grew heavier, while your phone still rested on the pillow next to your head.

“Y/N?” His voice broke through faintly, but you were already drifting. “Are you still—oh. You fell asleep, huh?”

You didn’t hear him chuckle softly on the other end or his quiet, “Goodnight, Y/Nnie.”

The line stayed connected, the faint hum of the studio bleeding through as he worked, glancing at his phone every so often to see the call still ongoing, a quiet comfort in knowing you were there, even in sleep.

-----

The restaurant buzzed with conversation and laughter as you and Chris stepped inside. He had picked you up for the long awaited introduction to your members. The guys were already gathered around a large table, and the moment they spotted the two of you, an eruption of greetings filled the space. Some were teasing, some warm, but all carried an easy familiarity that made you smile.  

Chris gestured for you to sit beside him, and as you settled in, you let out a nervous sigh, crossing your arms.  

"This feels like meeting the kids you didn’t know about," you mused, breaking the silence. 

Laughter broke out instantly. Felix leaned forward, grinning. "Yeah, your co-parent over here has been keeping secrets from you."  

Chris groaned, rubbing his face, but the corners of his lips twitched upward. "I knew this was a bad idea."  

Seungmin grinned mischievously. “You say that, but you have been talking about her a lot.”

At that, everyone turned their attention to Chris, their teasing grins widening.

Felix gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Oh, so much talking.”

“I wasn’t—” Chris started, but Hyunjin interrupted.

“Oh, you so were.” He turned to you. “He literally never shuts up about you.”

“Hyunjin,” Chris warned, but his ears were already turning red.

You couldn’t help but grin. “Well, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” Chris muttered, shooting the others a look. “These kids are just out for some trouble.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that, the boys naturally pulling you into their dynamics. They were curious about your history with Chris, and you found yourself reminiscing about your trainee days together.  

At one point, I.N called Chrs hyung, and you blinked in surprise.  

"Wow," you muttered. "That still feels so weird to hear."  

Chris raised an eyebrow. "What does?"  

"You being a hyung," you explained, shaking your head. "When we trained together, he was always one of the youngest. And now he's got all of you younger members looking up to you." You smirked. 

Felix grinned. "That’s so different from what we know."  

Hyunjin leaned in conspiratorially. "Yeah, when I joined, he had this whole intimidating, dark aura radiation off of him."  

You scoffed. "Intimidating?"  

"Yeah!" Hyunjin nodded eagerly. "I was honestly scared of him at first. He was always focused, serious during practice, and since he was already leading the team, he had this whole don’t-mess-with-me energy."  

You snorted, looking at Chris with pure disbelief. "Where was that energy when we were trainees? Because I remember you misusing honorifics, offending your hyungs by accident, and playing way too many pranks."  

I.N gasped. "What?"  

Chris groaned, sinking lower in his seat as the table erupted in laughter. "Why did I bring you here again?"  

"You love me," you teased, bumping your shoulder against his.  

Reminiscing about Chris’ trainee days, they quickly started asking about your own time as a trainee.  

"Noona, how long did you train?" Felix asked curiously.  

"A bit over three years," you answered easily.  

There was a pause, followed by various sounds of disbelief as that was longer than most of them trained.

"You trained for three years and just quit?" Hyunjin gaped.  

You shrugged. "Yeah, well. Life happens. Things don’t always go the way you plan."  

The table fell quiet for a moment, a few of them exchanging thoughtful glances. Then Han, ever the mood-maker, leaned forward with a smirk.  

"That’s wild. And now you’re the mystery person keeping hyung up all night."  

Chris choked on his drink, coughing. "For music. Don’t get any weird ideas."  

"Sure, sure," Han teased.  

"By the way," Changbin started, eyeing Chris suspiciously. "There’s this song he has been working on, but he won’t show us."  

"Yeah," Han chimed in, pointing his chopsticks at Chris. "Every time we try to listen, he closes his laptop or changes the subject."  

You didn’t even have to look at Chris to know. You felt his eyes on you instantly.  

You turned slightly, meeting his gaze.  

And you knew. They were talking about that song. The one that, since you were teenagers, was kept between just the two of you.

-----

Hours after the dinner with the members, you laid sprawled out on your bed, staring at the ceiling, still replaying moments from the night. 

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a message from Felix who you had freshly exchanged numbers with.

Felix🐥: Noona, it was really nice meeting you. 😊 I hope you had a great time!

Felix🐥: You mean a lot to him, you know.

You blinked at the screen, suddenly more awake. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you typed back.

You: That obvious, huh?

Felix🐥: Painfully. The way he looks at you? It’s different. Like you’re the only person in the room.

Your heart skipped.

Felix🐥: I’ve known Chan for years, but I’ve never seen him like this.

You swallowed, staring at the message for longer than necessary. There was a weight to Felix’s words, something deeper than just casual teasing.

Felix🐥: Just thought you should know.

You bit your lip, warmth blooming in your chest.

You: Thanks, Lix. ❤️

pt.4 | pt.5 | masterlist

[warmfuzzyanimal]

street corner sights, sounds, and skies ...

[pastryfication]

hi!!! can we get an ollie x reader, frustrated after he misses out on q3 in baku, and fully melts into his gfs arms when he’s out of the car. until someone from the team has to steer him away to the media pen

i guess that's the best i can do

pairing: ollie bearman x reader

note: i absolutely adore writing hurt/comfort so thank u for this request <33 i know it’s been over a month since u requested, and i’m so sorry for that, but i hope u still like it

the streets of baku were unforgiving that day, the tight corners and narrow straights biting harder than ollie had expected as he got into the car. he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but missing out on q3—by just a fraction—hurt more than he wanted to admit.

he climbs out of the car quickly, his helmet still on, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. the moment he’s out of the cockpit, the frustration floods him. all those laps, the careful management, and it still wasn’t enough. he slams the steering wheel back in place a little harder than necessary, trying to keep the emotions from boiling over in front of the cameras. the pit crew is busy around him, preparing for the post-qualifying debrief, but all he can think about is how close he came.

he catches sight of you standing just outside of the garage, your face soft with understanding. it’s as if you know exactly how he’s feeling before he even reaches you. you offer a small smile, but ollie’s expression doesn’t budge. he pulls off his helmet and then his baclava, running a hand through his sweaty hair, before walking over to you, his shoulders heavy with disappointment.

as soon as he’s close enough, he drops his helmet onto the ground beside you and crashes into your arms without a word. his hands grip tightly onto your waist, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, as if all the tension and frustration can somehow seep out through the contact. for a long moment, he just stands there, holding on, and you can feel the shuddering breath he lets out.

you wrap your arms around him, holding him close, your hand gently stroking the back of his neck, offering silent comfort. his body, taut with frustration and anger just moments ago, begins to sag against yours, melting into your embrace. he’s letting it all go, just for a moment, here with you, where it’s safe to be vulnerable—where he can show his true emotions.

“you were absolutely brilliant out there,” you whisper softly into his ear, trying to sooth the storm brewing inside him. “so close, ollie. you fought so hard.”

he doesn’t say anything at first, his face still buried in the crook of your neck, his arms clinging to you as if he's afraid you'll disappear. you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, deep breaths as he tries to calm down, to find the words he wants to say. his grip on you tightens even further for a second, as if he needs to hold on to something stable, something real, before he can speak.

“i should’ve made it,” he mumbles, his voice thick with frustration. “i had the pace. i know i did.”

you keep stroking his hair, your other hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. “you’ll get them next time. this isn’t the end.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy with emotion. “i just—” his voice cracks, and he shakes his head, trying to get the words out. “i wanted it so bad. i was right there.”

“i know,” you say softly, cupping his face in your hands. “i know, love. but this doesn’t change how incredible you are.”

for a moment, he just looks at you, the frustration still simmering beneath the surface but dulled by the warmth of your presence. you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he sighs again, his shoulders finally slumping in defeat—though not the kind of defeat that lingers, but the kind that comes with acceptance, with knowing he did all he could.

but before he can fully disappear into the comfort of your embrace, someone from the team approaches, clearing their throat. you both turn to see one of the pr managers, looking slightly awkward but aware of the time crunch. “ollie,” they say softly, not wanting to intrude too much. “we’ve got to get you to the media pen. they’re waiting.”

ollie groans quietly against your shoulder, his grip on you loosening as reality pulls him back. “right,” he mutters, clearly not thrilled about it.

he pulls back reluctantly, his hands still lingering on your waist for a second longer before he lets go completely. “i’ll be back soon,” he says, the words more for himself than for you, like a promise he’s making to get through this next part.

you offer him an encouraging smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “you’ve got this.”

he nods, though you can see he’s still carrying some of that disappointment with him. just before he walks away, he pauses, turning back to you. “thank you,” he whispers, his voice quiet but sincere. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“you don’t have to,” you reply, smiling softly as you reach up to caress his cheek adoringly. “i’ll always be here.”

with that, he smiles softly and leans down to give you a hurried kiss before finally allowing the team to steer him away, glancing back at you one last time before disappearing into the paddock. you watch him go, knowing that once he’s done with the media, you’ll be there waiting, ready to pull him back into your arms when he needs it most.

[jobean12-blog]

The Best Worst Day Ever

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: You're having a shit day but then you see a dog and things start looking up...

Author's Note: We love a soft and sweet Bucky and dogs and bookstores and cookies and kisses- so here we are! Hope you enjoy, thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️The two bookstores I mention can be found here (Spoonbill and Sugartown) and here (Albertine Books). Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: a cute dog, Bucky saves the day (a few times), cookies, soft fluff, building tension, books

“You will not believe the day I had.”

You practically sigh the words into the phone, feeling at least slightly better at the sound of your best friends voice.

“Tell me everything,��� she says.

You start to recap your shitty day but a large fluff of black fur across the street catches your eye.

“Oh my god…,” you start, completely derailing your previous thought. “There is this giant black dog across the street. I have to go pet it.”

Your best friend laughs, “of course you do,” and you can feel yourself start to form a real smile for the first time today.

“I’ll call you back,” you tell her.

“You got it,” she answers, not even questioning your behavior.

You start to cross the street, giving a quick glance in both directions before breaking into a jog. You’re just about to call out to the old man to ask if his dog is friendly, when you hear the screech of tires.

Your heart drops and your body instinctively reacts but all you feel is the whoosh of air that whips past you and a set of strong arms wrapped around your waist.

For a few long seconds you simply breathe, clinging to the solid warmth of whatever is holding you up.

“Are you ok doll?”

The voice is soft but deep and you look towards it, blinking against the bright sun, wondering for a moment if the car hit you and you’re dead and in fact, now in heaven.

Your fingers dig into soft leather as you stare at one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

“Am I dead?”

Bright blue eyes peer down at you, the corners lightly crinkling at your question. His gaze wanders over your face, his expression seeming to waver between awe and concern.

“No, I’ve got you. But are you ok?”

His words draw your attention to his mouth. Blinking again and trying to clear your head you finally manage to answer him.

“I…I don’t think so…I just wanted to pet the dog.”

His perfect lips curl up into a teasing smile and you have to drag your eyes away to focus on his blue ones. But the fact that you’re pressed against his solid chest and encased in the warmth of his arms does nothing to help your concentration.

With a slight tremble you start to sit up, but he doesn’t release you from his hold. He just moves with you and helps you to stand.

Once he feels you’re steady enough on your feet he removes his hands but stays close, clearly not convinced you’re fine.

You let out a shaky exhale and smooth your hands over yourself.

“That was so scary.”

You can feel the warmth of tears spring to your eyes and your vision starts to blur. He reaches out a gentle hand and places it on your arm.

“I’m sure it was. And while we could stay here I think it would be best to get out of the middle of the street. Why don’t we go sit?”  

He points to the bench on the sidewalk where the old man with the dog stands and watches.

As you approach the old man asks, “it’s a good thing this young man was here to save you. I could never move that fast.”

You glance at the “young man,” and he extends the hand that doesn’t have a secure hold on your arm to greet you.

“Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

“Thank you Bucky,” you say and then give him your name.

“Is she ok?” the old man asks Bucky.

“I think she’s gonna be fine,” Bucky says with a reassuring smile.

Bucky helps you onto the bench and as the dog moves closer, tail wagging, you blurt out in a rush, “can I please pet your dog?”

“Sure,” the old man says. “She’s very friendly.”

“What’s her name?” Bucky asks, as he kneels down to put his hand out for the dog to smell.

“Luna,” the old man replies, sitting down next to you on the bench.

You reach for Luna, letting her smell you before scratching her ears and leaning down to press your face into her soft fur.

Your focus stays on the dog until your heartbeat returns to normal, the conversation between Bucky and the old man lingering quietly in the background.

After a few more steadying breaths you thank the old man and Bucky helps him to stand, watching as he takes slow and small steps away from you, Luna in tow but still looking back at you.

Bucky stands and offers you his hand; strong and slightly clammy, and sparks fly, a curious look flitting across his stunning face as you both react to the touch. You fix your gaze on him and finally give yourself a chance to look. Your heart starts to crash against your chest all over again. You just sit there, staring.

He’s tall and the soft henley he wears beneath his leather jacket is fitted so that you can see the outline of the muscles in his chest. His eyes are the most beautiful blue, and the stubble covering his strong jaw does nothing to conceal the handsome features beneath it.

He smiles softly and for a moment you think you see his cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your obvious examination. He’s still holding onto your hand, and suddenly, seeming to come to his senses, he releases it and smooths his palm over his hair and then the back of his neck.

You feel a flush of heat move through you.

“You’re sure you’re ok doll?”

You nod.

“She should probably eat something.”

At the old man’s gruff voice both you and Bucky startle and turn to see him standing just a few feet away, a knowing smile on his face. Obviously, he didn’t get very far.

“He deserves a date for savin’ your life there young lady.”

With a decisive nod he dismisses you and Bucky and calls to Luna to finally continue on his way.

You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you look back up at him from your seat.

“Food?” you ask quietly.

“Let’s go,” he answers, his easy smile returning. “I know just the place.”

The butterflies stay firmly planted in the pit of your empty stomach and you stand so abruptly that you teeter forward and into his arms again. He catches you with two hands splayed at your waist and the urge to bury your heated face against his chest is overwhelming.

“I’m really having a day,” you mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I’m just happy I’m here to help.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

He falls into an easy stride beside you and a huff of laughter falls from your lips before you say, “I can’t believe I almost died trying to pet a dog.”

“I get it,” Bucky says, throwing you a wink.

You’re careful with your footing, still somewhat shaky from the whole ordeal but when your attention turns back to Bucky, his eyes trailing across your face, seeming to linger on your mouth before lifting to your eyes, you stumble, your foot catching a crack in the sidewalk.

He grabs your bicep to steady you, and you groan. “Shit, you must think I’m hopeless.”

“That person’s driving skills having nothing to do with you,” he assures you as he gently leads you toward the restaurant. “And everyone likes to pet dogs…or at least they should.”

His voice is gentle, and you avoid his gaze, his hand still curled securely around your arm as you come to stop outside the restaurant.

He only let’s go to open the door and usher you in with a soft press of his hand to your lower back.

The flutter of butterflies that you keep trying to ignore are back in full force and when Bucky stops at a table and pulls out the chair for you the gesture has you feeling faint.

You must be starved.

With a monumental effort to relax you sit back in the chair and cross your legs. His gaze automatically flickers downward and be visibly swallows before quickly looking away.

There’s a definite blush on the tops of his cheeks now.

“The pizza here is really good.” His voice sounds extra rumbly, maybe even a little hoarse.

You pick up a menu and start to fan yourself without even thinking. “I’m sure it is.”

“Do you live close by?” you ask him.

“Just a few blocks away. I’m here all the time.”

Before you can ask any more questions, an older woman appears beside your table with a beaming smile.

“Barnes has finally showed up with a girl!” she sings. “And a beauty at that.”

You hide your giggle behind the menu and peer at Bucky.

“This is Millie,” he says, his smile wide. “She owns the place and loves to bust my chops.”

You introduce yourself, delighted and Millie’s warmth.

“Are you having the usual?” Millie asks Bucky.

He nods and looks to you.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” you tell Millie.

“I like her already,” Millie says before rushing back off to the kitchen.

Bucky sits forward, his arms crossed in front of him and now that he’s taken off his leather jacket there is more of him to admire.

His blue eyes are focused entirely on you, and you try not to blurt out your thoughts about how nice his biceps looked in his shirt so instead you clamp your mouth shut and look around the cozy space.

You fall into easy conversation and when the food comes the silence is comfortable while you eagerly eat it, not realizing how hungry you really are.

After your stomach is full, Bucky pays the bill, even after you offered several times, pleading with him that you owed him at least that after saving your life.

He waves you off and hands Millie the cash then holds his hand out for yours.

At the feel of his skin tension immediately springs between you, and you scramble to think of something to say.

He beats you to it.

“What are your plans for the weekend?”

Grateful for the distraction, you reply, “well, I usually spend my Saturday afternoons at this little bookshop in my neighborhood.”

“Is it Spoonbill and Sugartown?”

Your eyes widen and light up.

“YES! You know it?”

“I do. I used to go all the time. Haven’t been in a while though. I love the smell of the old books.”

A rush of attraction sweeps over you like a wave and your hand squeezes his.

“You could meet me there tomorrow? If you’re not busy?”

“Yeah. I’d love that,” he says, grabbing the door and holding it open so you can exit the restaurant.

“Which way are you?” he asks, still holding your hand.

You point right toward Bedford Avenue.

“Come on, I’ll walk ya home doll.”

“Is it out of your way? I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

He chuckles before leaning down to press a quick, surprising kiss to your cheek.

“Nah, it’s not and I really don’t mind.”

You are in love.

Inside the old bookstore, with its vaulted ceilings and shafts of light pouring through the skylights, you stare at the rows and rows of bookshelves.

Through the aisles there is something to catch the eye at every turn. Not just books, but interesting and antique Tiffany lamps and various knick knacks that make you smile. Reading areas are set up in breaks between the shelves, tables with chairs so people can lounge, read, and drink their coffee and eat their desserts.

You let out a contented sigh. On purpose, you arrived a bit early, hoping the familiarity and comfort of the store would calm the persistent butterflies that have taken up a permanent residence in your stomach since your literal run in with Bucky.

As you’re falling deeper under the spell of the leather lined bindings and dusty-smelling pages a soft voice calls your name.

You look up and see Bucky standing at the end of the aisle. He’s dressed casually but different from yesterday, his dark jeans fitted to his muscular thighs and his black tee shirt showing off those perfect arms and chest.

He steps closer and greets you with another kiss to your cheek, this time, closer to the corner of your mouth.

You close your eyes briefly, inhaling his scent and steadying yourself on your feet. Before you can actually swoon to the floor you tell him about the expansion they recently built in the back with a rush of enthusiastic words.

Taking his hand, you lead him to the new section, practically running.

Laughing at your overexcitement, he squeezes your hand.

“You’re very cute.”

When you turn to look at him, something in his eyes makes your skin heat and you have to look away again, but not before you give him a thankful smile.

You expect him to let go of your hand once you reach the back, but he doesn’t.

“Have you ever been to Albertine Books?” he asks.

You stop and think.

“No, I don’t think I’ve even heard of it.”

“It’s easy to miss,” he explains. “It’s inside the French Embassy and has mostly French language books and translations from French into English, but it’s gorgeous.”

“Really?” you say with uninhibited joy. “Will you take me there sometime?”

You’re too busy deciding which part of the expanded bookstore you want to show him first to see his expression, but you hear the affection in his tone when he replies, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, doll.”

Your heart flutters.

Your hand gets clammy, and you gently pull it away, trying to use the shelves and the books lining them to refocus yourself.

He stays with you, content to watch you peruse the bindings, moving from bookshelf to bookshelf.

The book titles quickly become a blur as your awareness zeroes in on one thing, one person.

Bucky.

You feel the warmth of his presence, hovering at your back, and feel the heat of his gaze on your face. The skin on your cheek tingles and you can still feel the press of his lips.

Your breathing grows shallower as his fingertips brush against the small of your back, a gentle touch, but searing through your clothes.

Busy frantically pondering how to navigate the chemistry you share; you don’t realize the book you halt in front of until it’s too late.

A romance novel with a couple in a sexy position on the cover.

Just perfect.

His fingertips press deeper against your lower back, and then you feel the whisper of his lips on your ear as he comments, “interesting choice.”

You make the mistake of turning your head toward his and find his nose just inches from yours.

Your eyes lock for a second before his gazes drops to your mouth. Your body sways slightly toward his, and he takes the movement as an invitation, his head dipping those last few inches.

“Excuse me.”

A voice, loud and close, jolts you away from Bucky, whose mouth had just been millimeters from touching yours.

“I just…want that book.” An arm reaches between you and Bucky, and dazed, you look over to see a woman. She seems unfazed by the fact that she clearly interrupted a moment, and you grab the book for her.

She gives you a thin lipped smiled and darts away.

After a second or two of staring after her, you finally draw up the courage to meet Bucky’s eyes.

His cheeks are pink again and he’s rubbing his palm on his jeans.

Looking over his shoulder you spot the coffee and dessert counter.

“Ooh!” you say, hurrying towards it. “Let’s get a cookie!”

Bucky follows and you turn to him, smiling through the awkwardness.

“You have to try the double chocolate chip.”

He bends down to peer into the display case. Your eyes meet, and just like that you’re too close for your body to handle. You swallow hard.

“It’s delicious. And the chunks of chocolate are gooey.”

His eyes are trained on your mouth as he murmurs, “maybe we should get two.”

“Good idea. I can eat a whole one easily on my own. We might even need three.”

You sound breathless.

“Hm.” He’s not even listening to your words at this point. His focus is on your lips, his eyes are hooded, and he is definitely going to attempt to kiss you again.

“What can I get for you?” the worker behind the counter asks, smiling brightly when the two of you jerk your heads up.

“Four double chocolate chip cookies,” Bucky blurts out, then follows with a soft, “please and thanks.”

Once you have your cookies in your hand you head to one of the back tables and sit, stuffing nearly the whole cookie in your mouth.

It’s so good that for a moment you forget yourself and moan around the bite.

Bucky clears his throat, and you lock eyes. His reaches across the table, his strong fingertips gripping your chin, and he bends his head toward yours. He halts when he’s close enough that you can see the patches of gray in his beard and feel his warm breath fan your cheek.

With the softest brush of his calloused thumb, he wipes away some chocolate from your bottom lip.

“Had a little chocolate smudge right there,” he whispers.

You slowly nod and your tongue darts out to lick your lips. His eyes track the movement, and he releases you, biting into half of his own cookie.

“These really are amazing,” he says around the mouthful.

You nod again, too flustered for words.

The two of you eat all four cookies and despite wanting to distract yourself with more you leave the bookstore and let him walk you home once again.

When you stop outside your building you fiddle with your hands and look anywhere but at him.

“I had the best time,” he says, drawing your attention.

“Me too,” you say quietly.

“When can I take you to Albertine Books?” he asks, as he takes a tentative step closer.

“Tomorrow?”

It’s a hopeful question. One you couldn’t stop yourself from asking even if you wanted to.

“I’d love that doll.”

A deep tug low in your belly makes you bite your lip. You love the use of that endearment and after spending most of the afternoon so close to him you’re nearly at your wits end.

His gaze fixes on yours and his jaw tightens at whatever he sees in your expression then he closes the distance and slides his arms around you, his hands coasting slowly up your back.

He lifts a hand to your cheek, sweeping his thumb across your soft skin and splaying his hand to draw you closer.

“If someone interrupts us this time…” he says, tone full of warning but still teasing.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t even notice if there was a dog nearby for me to pet,” you say with a smile.

He laughs and bumps your nose with his.

“Not even a dog huh?”                                                                                   

You shake your head, and your eyes start to close as your hands grasp the front of his shirt. You feel the heat of his breath first, the warning before his lips touch yours. And when they do, it’s barely a brush, a hot, glancing touch.

Your fingers close more tightly around the fabric of his shirt, silently urging him to really kiss you. You’re desperate for it.

Another whisper of a of kiss, then a slightly deeper press, a nibble on your lower lip. A whimper escapes you.

It shatters whatever restraint he’s grounded himself with and his hand splayed at your back hauls you against his body as his mouth presses to yours.

You open your mouth to let him in, and his groan of satisfaction rumbles through you. The tickle of his scruffy jaw is rough in the just the way you’d hoped it would be and when you feel the slide of his hands down your back, the smooth strength of him under your touch, you completely melt into the kiss and the rest of the world fades away.

[nomie-11]

Piltover's Princess - Part 2

masterlist! | part 1

synopsis: vi is a little bit less of a blushing mess now that she's got piltover's princess on her territory

pairings: vi x reader

The first time Vi had gotten you alone, she was unreasonably happy. Everytime the two of you had been together before this it had been on your turf, under your circumstances, with your people surrounding you, and Caitlyn had always tagged along. 

You had even let Vi play dress up—something that you never did, not even for your sweetheart of a mother—and let her pick out some casual clothing for you to wear. And she thought you looked absolutely adorable in the plain brown leather jacket and black pants she had picked for you, even if you shifted uncomfortably in the plain clothes. 

“Vi, I feel like I’m wearing a costume,” You said flatly, tugging at your sleeve as you stood in front of her, the fancy decor of your bedroom suddenly feeling foreign and unfamiliar in your new attire. “I look ridiculous.” 

“You look adorable, princess,” she corrected, a wide grin on her face. “Ready to conquer Zaun?” 

With a sharp, yet endearingly deep breath, you nodded, stealing your expression. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

—------------------------------

You were not ready. 

Zaun was an entirely different world from Piltover. The air was thicker, darker, and the streets were damp and uneven as you dutifully walked next to Vi. Even the way you walked made you stick out like a sore thumb, your strides too long, your head held too high. You looked every bit the royalty you were painted to be, even when you wanted nothing more than to become Vi’s shadow. 

“There’s so much I have to show you,” Vi rambled, her eyes bright with excitement as you turned another corner. “You have to try my favorite food ever—oh, you’re going to love Zaun style street food! And I have to take you to The Last Drop—you need to meet Powder and Ekko! And then we need to watch the skyline after the sun goes down from the rooftops, there’s firelights everywhere, and Piltover looks beautiful from Zaun’s rooftops! And–”

You stumbled on a loose cobblestone, the toe of your worn boots catching on the edge of the stone before you could resituate yourself, and you felt yourself falling with a small yelp. 

Vi reacted instantly, her reflexes sharp as ever. Before you could hit the ground, her strong arms were around you, steadying you effortlessly. 

“Whoa, easy there, princess,” Vi said, her voice filled with concern, but her ears pink. “You okay?”

You looked up at her, cheeks flushing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… not used to these streets.” You straightened yourself, brushing imaginary dust off your pants, trying to calm the blush that covered your face. 

Vi laughed, a warm and genuine sound that made your heart flutter. “Guess we gotta get you some Zaun-proof boots next time, huh?”

You gave her a small smile, grateful for her attempt to lighten the moment. “Maybe. Or you could just catch me every time I fall.”

For a second, Vi wished she dragged Caitlyn along as well, because now there was no one to cover for her as she stumbled over her words—her mouth caught somewhere between “of course I’ll catch you,” and “please marry me.”

————————————

The stand that Vi brought you to for food was… interesting, to say the least. 

“We need to have the seafood skewers. Oh! And we need the tentacle stew—and you have to try grilled Zaun-style fish heads!” She rambled as you approached a stand with a huge blue fish-man behind the counter. 

The vendor, a hulking figure with vibrant scales and a grin that revealed jagged teeth, greeted Vi with a hearty laugh. 

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Vi! Who’s the fancy friend?” He teased, his eyes flickering to you. 

You swallowed nervously, feeling like you were out of your depth—quite literally. 

“This is Y/n,” Vi said proudly, nudging you forward. “Piltover’s finest—and she’s here to try real Zaun food.” 

The vendor laughed again. “Piltover royalty, huh? You sure you can handle our flavors, princess?” 

You straightened your shoulders, determined not to let the teasing get to you. “I can handle it,” you said with as much confidence as you could muster. 

Vi smirked, clearly amused by your defiance. “We’ll take two skewers, a bowl of stew, and—uh—one fish head.” She grinned at your flushing face. “Start small.” 

As you waited for your food, Vi leaned against the counter, casually talking to the vendor about Zaun gossip. You listened, marveling at how comfortable she was in this world that felt so chaotic to you.

When the food arrived, the smell was… overwhelming. The skewers glistened with an oily sauce, and the stew was bubbling with chunks of blue fish meat. Then there was the fish head, its glassy eyes staring right at you. 

“Ready to dig in?” Vi asked with a grin, holding out a skewer. 

You hesitated, staring at the fish head like it might come back to life. “Do I… eat the eyes?” 

Vi burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as a light blush covered your cheeks. “Only if you’re brave enough!”

You shot her a mock glare, grabbing a skewer instead. You took a cautious bite—and to your surprise, it was delicious. Smoky, salty, with a tangy kick that lingered on your tongue. It was incredible. 

“That’s… amazing!” You beamed, your eyes lighting up as you eagerly went for another bite. 

Vi froze for a moment, staring at you with a mixture of disbelief and adoration. “You… think so?” she asked, her voice unusually soft. 

You nodded enthusiastically, savoring the flavors. “I’ve never tasted anything like this before. It’s so different—but in a good way!”

Vi’s heart did a little flip at your excitement. The way your eyes sparkled, the way your lips curved into that radiant smile, the way you hummed in delight at every bite—it was too much for her to handle. You were too much. 

“Y-you’ve got, uh, sauce on your cheek,” Vi stammered, her usual confidence crumbling as she gestured vaguely at your face. 

You blinked, then tried to wipe it away, missing the splotch entirely. “Here?” 

“No, uh, lower… wait, here, let me—” Vi reached out with a napkin, gently brushing it against your cheek. She was so close now, her face inches from yours, and she could feel her ears heating up as her eyes locked onto yours. 

Your cheeks flushed as you felt the warmth of her hand so near, her punk hair catching the dim light of the streetlamps. You weren’t sure if it was the slightly spicy food or Vi’s proximity, but your heart was racing. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended. 

Vi quickly stepped back, the napkin crumpled in her hand as she tried to collect herself. “N-no problem. Just—uh—looking out for you, princess,” she said, her tone uneven. 

You couldn’t help but smile at her flustered state. “You’re adorable when you’re nervous, Vi,” you teased, leaning slightly closer. 

Vi’s brain fumbled for a moment. Her tough exterior cracked completely as she stumbled over her words, her face growing redder by the second. “I’m not—! I mean, you’re—! Ugh, why are you like this?” she groaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment before peeking out with a sheepish grin. 

You laughed, the sound ringing clear and light in the crowded streets of Zaun. “Maybe I just like seeing you flustered,” you said with a playful wink, savoring the familiar sight of pink dusting Vi’s cheeks. 

Vi shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible, princess.”

—-------------------------------------------------

After the meal, Vi led you further into Zaun, the streets bustling with a lively energy that seemed to pulse through every corner. The closer you got to The Last Drop, the more you noticed how the atmosphere shifted. It wasn’t chaotic or oppressive like you had feared; instead, there was an undeniable sense of community. Neon signs blinked overhead, casting colorful glows on the groups of people gathered around makeshift stalls and street performers. Children darted through the sparse crowd, their laughter echoing off the dark brick walls. 

“You’re going to love this place,” Vi said, glancing back at you with a grin. “It’s basically my home. Vander and Silco turned it into something really special—a real hub for the Lanes.” 

You could see the pride in her expression as you approached the large, well-worn building. The Last Drop’s sign hung prominently, now accompanied by a glowing neon art that gave it an almost welcoming feel. The faint hum of music and laughter spilled into the streets, and you felt your earlier nervousness start to melt away. 

Vi pushed the door open, the scent of aged wood and spiced drinks greeting you. Inside, the place was alive. Tables were filled with Zaunites of all ages, sharing food, playing games, or simply chatting. A small stage in the corner featured a group of musicians, their melodies blending seamlessly with the clinking of glasses and friendly chatter. 

“Vi!” an unfamiliar voice called out, and you turned to see a young woman with bright blue hair bounding toward you. Her grin wide and sparkling eyes were impossible to miss. She had the cutest twin buns in her hair, and a streak of pink contrasting beautifully with the almost neon blue of the rest of her hair. 

“Hey, Pow!” Vi replied, catching her in a quick hug before gesturing toward you. “This is Y/n.” 

Powder’s eyes lit up as she gave you a quick one over. “So you’re the fancy Piltover princess. Vi’s been talking about you nonstop. Welcome to our world!”

You felt your cheeks warm at Powder’s words, glancing at Vi, who was suddenly avoiding your gaze with a sheepish grin. “It’s nice to meet you,” you said, offering a small smile. 

Powder grabbed your hand, practically dragging you deeper into the room. “Come on, you’ve got to meet Vander—oh! And Ekko! You have so many people to meet!”

Vi trailed behind, chuckling at Powder’s enthusiasm. “Easy, Powder, let her breathe.” 

But there was no stopping her. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Vander, the man who seemed to exude both strength and kindness. His arms were crossed over his chest, but his expression softened when he saw you. 

“So you’re the one Vi’s been sneaking off to Piltover for,” Vander said, his voice deep but warm. “Welcome to Zaun. You must be something special to get her to bring you here. Vi’s always talking about how she and Caitlyn are always running into you, it’s nice to know she has more than one friend.” 

Your cheeks burned as you glanced at Vi, whose ears had turned a bright shade of pink. She scratched the back of her neck, her usual confidence nowhere to be found. 

“Uh, yeah. Cait and I have run into her a few times,” Vi mumbled, avoiding eye contact with Vander. 

Vander smirked knowingly, but didn’t press further. “Well, any ‘friend’ of Vi’s is welcome here. Make yourself at home.” 

Before you could respond, Powder grabbed your hand again, tugging you toward a smaller table in the corner where a boy a few years younger than you with bright, curious eyes sat hunched over a complex-looking device. 

“Ekko! Look who Vi brought!” Powder exclaimed, plopping down beside him and resting her head on his arm, before gesturing toward you with a flourish. “This is Y/n Talis. She’s from Piltover, and she’s super fancy!”

Ekko looked up, his face lighting up with a mix of excitement and curiosity. “Talis? As in Jayce Talis? What brings you down to Zaun?” 

You hesitated for a moment, still adjusting to the whirlwind pace of the evening. “Vi’s been telling me a lot about Zaun. I wanted to see it for myself—and meet the people who make it so special.” You gestured toward the intricate device on the table. “And from the looks of it, you’re one of those people.” 

Ekko’s grin widened, and he turned the device toward you. “This? It’s a prototype I’m working on. Powder’s been helping me with the mechanics. We’re going to enter it in the Youth Innovator’s Competition in a few weeks.” 

Your eyes widened in recognition. “I know that competition! I mean, you obviously know my brother, but he and his partner won it a few years ago! Their invention changed everything for Piltoverr—if you’re entering, I’m sure your invention will be just as amazing.”

Powder’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “What were their inventions like up close? Are they cool? Do they glow?” 

You smiled, the memories flooding back. “Super cool. Watching them work was inspiring—they poured their hearts into it. And you should do the same. Keep going, even when it feels impossible. I know you’ll create something amazing.” 

Ekko and Powder exchanged a glance, their excitement palpable. “Thanks, Y/n,” Ekko said earnestly. “That means a lot.”

Vi, who had been leaning against a nearby pillar, watched the scene unfold with a soft, almost awestruck expression. The way you spoke, so encouraging and genuine, made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t quite put into words. 

“Okay, that’s it,” she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms. “I’m marrying her.” 

Powder, who had somehow overheard, turned to Vi with a mischievous grin. “What was that, Vi?”

Vi’s eyes widened, her face turning beet red. “Nothing! Mind your business, Powder!” she snapped, though there was no real heat in her voice. 

Powder cackled, leaning over to whisper something to Ekko, who grinned and gave Vi a knowing look. 

Vi just sighed, burying her face in her hands, wishing she could both disappear and live in this moment forever. 

—-------------------------------------------------

By the time the night was winding down, you found yourself walking alongside Vi through the quieter streets of Zaun. The energy of The Last Drop had been exhilarating but exhausting, and now the world seemed softer, the glowing lights casting a warm glow on the damp cobblestones. 

Vi had insisted on showing you the skyline from the rooftop of The Last Drop before the evening ended. You’d hesitated, looking up at the daunting climb, but her enthusiasm was infectious, and you reluctantly agreed. 

“Come on, princess,” she teased, holding her hand out to you. “I’ll be your guide. Trust me.” 

“I do trust you,” you said softly, slipping your hand into hers. 

The climb was not a s graceful as you might’ve hoped. Vi scrambled up effortlessly, her movements fluid and confident. You, on the other hand, struggled to find footing, your amrs trembling as you pulled yourself up the uneven surfaces. 

“Y/n, you good back there?” Vi called, peeking over the edge of the ledge she’d just scaled. 

“Do I look like I’m good?” you huffed, glaring up at her. 

Vi chuckled, her grin wide as she reached down to offer her hand. “Come on. I’ve got you.” 

With her help, you managed the last stretch, panting slightly as you collapsed onto the rooftop. “How do you do this so easily?” 

“Practice,” she replied, sitting beside you and brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “You’re not so bad for a first-timer, though.” 

You rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “Glad I didn’t embarrass myself completely.” 

“You could never embarrass yourself,” Vi said, her voice softer now. 

You turned to respond but stopped when you caught the look in her eyes—something tender and unguarded. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly glanced away, focusing on the skyline instead. 

And what a view it was. 

Piltover stretched out before you, its golden lights shimmering like stars against the dark sky. The faint glow of Zaun’s neon signs framed the edges of the scene, creating a contrast that was both striking and beautiful. 

“Wow,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s so beautiful.” 

“Yeah,” Vi murmured, her gaze fixed not on the skyline but on you. 

The weight of her stare made you glance back at her. “You’re not even looking at the view,” you pointed out with a small, nervous laugh. 

Vi blinked, startled, and quickly turned her head. “I was—uh, I mean, I am! It’s great! Amazing view! Totally worth the climb!”

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. Her usual confidence was gone, replaced by an awkwardness that you found utterly endearing. She rubbed the back of her neck, her ears tinged pink, and you realized just how close you were sitting. 

The space between you felt charged, electric. 

“Vi,” you said softly, drawing her attention back to you.

“Y-yeah?” 

“Kiss me.” 

Before she could overthink it, she leaned in, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was tentative but undeniably warm. For a moment, Vi froze completely, her mind blanking, but then she leaned into the kiss, her hand coming up to cradle your cheek gently. 

When you finally pulled back, her wide eyes met yours, her lips parted in disbelief. “I—uh—wow. I didn’t see that coming,” she admitted, her voice unsteady. 

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You talk a lot, you know that?” 

“Yeah. Sorry, I just—”

You leaned in again, cutting her off with another kiss, this one deeper and more confident. Her arms circled around you instinctively, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. 

When you finally broke apart, Vi rested her forehead against yours, a dazed smile on her face. “So, did Piltover’s princess like Zaun?” 

“Oh, she loved it.”

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

asked to be tagged: @lipglosskxsses

[moonstruckme]

okay i absolutely NEED james with an emo/goth gf!!! it’s giving black cat reader 🤭🤭🤭 only write if you want of course ♥️♥️

Thank you for requesting lovely! I fear this ended up being more black cat than goth because I didn't really go into describing reader's aesthetic but I hope this is the attitude you were looking for <3

cw: mention of alcohol (but reader isn't explicitly drinking)

James Potter x black cat!reader ♡ 718 words

James doesn’t think you’re glaring at him, but you’re definitely glaring. 

“How’s your drink, angel?” he asks, leaning across your small table with a smile. 

You suck your teeth. “It’s good.” 

James reaches over the table for your hand. You give it to him, thundercloud expression not so much as flickering, but when he squeezes your fingers you squeeze back. 

He lowers his voice. “What’s wrong?” 

“How can you think over their racket?” The question bursts out of you like this is something you’ve been waiting to talk about. James follows the beam of your glare, turning in his seat to look at the gaggle of men sitting in the corner booth of the restaurant. They’re laughing, rambunctious, one of them having procured a deck of cards which they seem to be playing some kind of disorganized game with. Two have begun arm wrestling.

“They’re yelling so loud it’s bouncing off the walls,” you seethe. “It’s so obnoxious. I can barely hear you without you shouting.” 

James makes a face as he turns back around, feeling a tad oblivious. He’d just thought this was a louder sort of restaurant, but he sees now that the other patrons are leaning close to each other over their tables, talking as quietly as they can manage just like you. The noise is created only by that one group. 

“I think they’ve had a few.” He gives a sheepish shrug, nodding to the empty pints collecting in one corner of their table. However they might be acting, James feels awful for anyone who ends up on the other end of your wrath. “You know how it is when you get like that and sort of forget where you are.” 

“No, not really.” You start tapping an irritated finger on the table. “They could at least try to be considerate. And there’s a bar just across the street, why not go there?” 

James gives you an amused look. “Hey,” he says, leaning across the table and coaxing you in for a kiss. You relent to it, but you don’t look much improved afterwards. “It’s all in good fun, yeah? We shouldn’t let their good time ruin our good time.” 

He suspects you’re a bit peeved with him for not taking your side, but you try to overcome it. “Yeah,” you agree. You lean over to take a sip from your straw, still obviously fuming. 

And James decides something simply must be done. 

“Alright.” He gives your hand a quick squeeze, pushing back his chair as he stands. “Back in a second, lovie.” 

He can feel your eyes following as he goes over to the rowdy table and introduces himself. Every now and then as he talks to the guys, he’ll glance over to find your stare still on him, narrowed with curiosity. James has to admit, the pleasure of having your attention has never quite worn off. He sends you a wink when nobody else is looking. 

After a few minutes, the men slip out from their booth and James parts with them with a series of clapping handshakes. You watch in awe as they go out the door, your gaze moving back to your boyfriend when he sits across from you. 

“How did you do that?” you ask. 

James grins smugly. “I just got a bit chummy with them and then told them about the bar across the street. They have a pool table over there, and if you make it before eight pints are half off.” 

Your lips part slightly. It’s as close to jaw-dropping surprise as you ever get. “You seriously got them to leave by making friends with them.” 

He shrugs. “I guess. We didn’t really have time to get to know each other all that well.” 

You regard him thoughtfully for a moment, then lean across the table to kiss his cheek. James’ smile leaps up on his face. His stomach feels swarmed by butterflies far more boisterous than that table had ever been. 

“Thanks,” you say. 

James is smiling so hard it’s hurting his cheeks. “You feel better now?” 

You roll your eyes, but he spies a twitch in the corner of your lips. “Yeah, I feel better.” 

“Good.” He pecks you on your cheek in turn. You appear dangerously close to pleased. “Then you’re welcome, lovie.”

[sacrednova]

Drive me home | Simon "Ghost" Riley | 1

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!!

Next [2]

It hadn’t been a bad night—she danced, drank, laughed with her friends... But now, she was alone outside the club, searching for that Uber contact her friend had sent, fingers shaking as she tried to type the number correctly.

She nearly let out a dramatic little cry when she checked the time; it was freezing.

The vibrations of her phone in her hand came like a lifeline in the disorienting haze of neon lights, loud music, and a few too many cocktails. She blinked as a new text popped up from “Uber???” Well, that’s what she had saved him as anyway.

She squinted at the message, trying to process the details in her tipsy state. A mask? What kind of Uber driver wore a mask? She brushed it off, assuming he was just another eccentric in this city full of them. But a masked, mysterious stranger in a black truck? Right now, that sounded way better than the alley she was stuck in. Besides, she could take care of herself. Probably.

And then she saw it—a figure lurking across the street, watching her from the shadows, eyes flicking from her to his phone, and then back again. She swallowed, nerves prickling. She tried to ignore the feeling, but it lingered, crawling up her spine.

Suddenly, her fingers flew across the screen.

No reply.

She clenched her phone tighter, looking up and down the empty street, then glanced back at her screen. She could feel the rising urge to text him again and again, each message tinged with a touch more urgency.

Somewhere miles away, Simon glanced at his phone, his thumb hovering over the steering wheel. He’d put himself through hell and back in countless battlefields, facing down horrors most men would never imagine, but this? Being spammed by a random, drunk girl with a barrage of panicked messages? It was almost… comical.

What am I doing? he thought, irritation flickering under his mask. He was almost 40, practically ancient by some standards, and here he was, playing the knight in black armor for some stranger who probably didn’t even know her own last name right now.

Yet there he was, pressing down harder on the gas pedal.

The next text buzzed as he turned a corner.

The words ignited something in him, a familiar protective instinct that refused to let up. He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing as he watched the road blur past. When he’d agreed to pick her up, it was because he didn’t trust her to make it home in one piece. He could tell she’d been drinking, and he had no patience for the kinds of creeps that lingered around clubs at this hour. But now…now it felt like a mission.

The final turn brought her into view—a small, unsteady figure with her back against a wall, clutching her phone like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to safety. And standing just a few feet away from her was the guy. Tall, with a slick smile and hands shoved in his pockets, like he had all the time in the world to wait her out.

Simon’s truck screeched to a halt, the dark engine purring like a beast as he glared through the windshield. He didn’t even need to get out; the guy’s eyes widened the moment the headlights hit him, and he took a few steps back, muttering something before disappearing into the shadows.

Simon killed the engine and got out, his towering figure partially hidden by the black mask over his face, and for a second, she stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Uh…Uber?” she said with a drunken giggle, half-nervous, half-relieved.

“Get in,” he muttered, shooting her a look as he opened the passenger door.

She clambered in, her expression melting from shock into something warm, a little playful as she buckled herself up. “Mr. Uber Driver… you’re my hero,” she slurred.

He grunted, barely acknowledging her. “Text me like that again, and I might just leave you next time.”

She smiled, eyes heavy-lidded, safe and sound in the passenger seat of his big, black truck.

[This is a first part] [Part two here]

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

I’ll Be Yours For The Weekend

WC: 2K

Summary: Highschool sweethearts Connor and Y/n reunite in their hometown for thanksgiving where their breakup after graduation happened and their reaction to seeing each other was to call each other babe for the weekend inevitably creating two different f reactions when returning to their separate lives across the country.

Warnings: None but ANGSTY ANGST ANGST

Connor Bedard stepped off the plane, the cold autumn air of Canada wrapping around him like an old, familiar blanket. It felt surreal to be back in the hometown that had shaped so much of who he was, yet everything felt heavier than he remembered. Months had passed since he was drafted by the Chicago Blackhawks, and now he stood on the cusp of a new life—one filled with expectations, pressure, and a dream he had long chased. But despite the excitement, an emptiness gnawed at him.

His thoughts drifted to Y/N, the girl he had loved for three years. The one who had stood by him through countless late-night practices, who had cheered him on from the stands, and whose laughter had filled his world with joy. Breaking up before the draft had been a decision they both had agonized over, but the weight of their separate futures had felt insurmountable. Now, as he drove through familiar streets, he couldn’t escape the memories. The school they attended together, the coffee shop where they spent endless afternoons, the park where they shared secrets, her parents house—it all felt achingly close yet impossibly distant.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Y/N stared out the window of her Los Angeles dorm. The palm trees swayed lazily in the warm breeze, but she felt frozen in time. She had thrown herself into her studies, trying to push the aside the remaining gaping void Connor had left behind. She followed his journey from afar through screens, proud yet heartbroken, knowing their love was now just a bittersweet memory. Thanksgiving was approaching, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to go home, despite the ache that came with it.

When she arrived back in their hometown, Y/N felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia wash over her. Every corner of the town whispered Connor’s name, from the diner they had frequented to the bench where they’d carved their initials. It felt like a time capsule, preserving their shared moments, while the reality of their separation weighed heavily on her heart.

The day before Thanksgiving, she found herself at the local grocery store, running errands her mother sent her to do before the feast. The store buzzed with activity, filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter, but Y/N felt isolated, her mind still wandering back to Connor. Suddenly, as she turned a corner, she collided with someone. The familiar voice broke through her thoughts.

“Y/N?”

Time stood still as she looked up into Connor’s eyes. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them back together. They both wore expressions of shock, disbelief washing over them like a tidal wave.

“Connor-” she managed to breathe, a mix of surprise and warmth flooding her heart.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said, a smile breaking through the initial surprise.

They stood in the aisle, surrounded by shelves filled with holiday treats, but all they could see was each other. After a brief moment of hesitation, they fell into an easy conversation, sharing updates about their lives. The chemistry between them felt electric, as if no time had passed since their last encounter.

“Do you remember that time we got lost on our way to the lake?” Connor asked, laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her.

“Of course! We ended up at that diner and ordered way too many fries,” Y/N replied, her smile genuine, igniting memories that warmed her heart.

As they continued to talk, the hurt of their breakup began to fade, replaced by a sense of comfort and familiarity. It was as if the months apart had been nothing more than a fleeting dream. They spent nearly an hour wandering the aisles, the grocery store fading into the background as they rediscovered each other.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, the words barely escaping her lips. “What if we drove around town this weekend? Like old times?”

“Like old times?” Connor replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” she said, her heart racing at the prospect of reclaiming a piece of their past.

The next day, they met again, the air crisp and fresh as they set off in Connor’s car. As they drove through familiar roads, every turn brought a rush of memories—each place was a snapshot of their past, a reminder of the love they had shared. Connor played their favorite songs, and they sang along, the laughter spilling out of the windows and into the crisp autumn air.

The first stop was the park where they had spent countless afternoons. They parked and stepped out, taking a moment to breathe in the nostalgia. The leaves crunched under their feet as they walked along the path, the same path they had walked as teenagers, hand in hand.

“Remember when we used to come here every weekend after school and just sat on that swing set?” Y/N asked, pointing to the rusting swings in the distance.

Connor chuckled, “And that day you pushed me so hard I flew off!”

“Hey there was in no way that was my fault! You leaned over!” she teased, nudging him playfully.

They made their way to the swings, their laughter echoing through the park. Y/N settled onto one swing while Connor took the one beside her. They began to swing gently, the rhythmic motion stirring memories of simpler times.

“Do you ever think about us?” Y/N asked, her voice softening.

“Every day,” Connor admitted, his gaze fixed on the ground. “It’s hard not to. You were such a huge part of my life.”

“I miss you,” she confessed, the weight of her words hanging between them.

“I miss you too,” he replied, the honesty in his voice wrapping around her like a warm hug. “But what do we do about it?”

The question lingered in the air, unanswered. They swung in silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts. The connection they shared felt as real as ever, yet the reality of their separate lives loomed large.

After leaving the park, they drove past their old high school. Connor slowed down, memories flooding back. “Can you believe we actually graduated?” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, and now look at us,” Y/N said with a hint of irony. “You’re an NHL player, and I’m… well, trying to figure out college.”

“Hey, you’re doing amazing,” he reassured her. “You’ve always been the smart one.”

As they reminisced, the hurt from their breakup felt like a distant memory. They were just two teenagers again, laughing and teasing one another. The conversation flowed easily, the comfort of their shared history creating a safe space to explore the unspoken tension.

Eventually, they found themselves at the local diner, a spot they had frequented during their high school years after discovering it instead of the lake. They settled into a booth, and as they browsed the menu, Connor glanced around, taking in the familiar sights.

“I can’t believe this place hasn’t changed at all,” he said, grinning. “Still serving the best milkshakes in town.”

Y/N laughed. “And the greasiest fries! Some things never change.”

They placed their orders and continued to chat, the conversation flowing seamlessly. With every laugh and shared memory, the walls they had built around themselves began to crumble. It felt natural, as if they were slipping back into their old rhythm.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said before,” Connor said suddenly, his tone shifting. “About driving around town. I mean, we’re here now. Why not make the most of it?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s do everything we used to do,” he proposed, excitement sparking in his eyes. “Let’s revisit all our favorite spots.”

“Haven’t we been basically doing that?” she asked, her heart racing at the thought.

“I guess, but I mean for the whole weekend. Let’s call this weekend ours… Please?” he said, a pleading grin spreading across his face.

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay, but I’m in charge of the playlist!”

They left the diner, laughter bubbling between them as they jumped back into the car. Connor cranked up the music, the familiar tunes flooding their senses, and for a moment, everything felt right.

They visited the arcade where they had spent many Friday nights, laughing over games and sharing fries. They drove down the streets where they had cruised in Connor’s old car, the wind whipping through their hair as they sang along to their favorite songs. Each stop brought a rush of emotions, a mix of happiness and melancholy that only deepened their connection.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, they found themselves back at the park. The air was cooler now, but the warmth between them was undeniable. They wandered to the same bench where they had spent countless afternoons, lost in conversation.

“I can’t believe how easy this feels,” Y/N said, leaning back against the bench, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah, it’s like no time has passed,” Connor agreed, his gaze drifting to her. “It’s just us again.”

“Do you think we could… I don’t know, make this work?” she asked cautiously, the vulnerability in her voice palpable.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he replied, the seriousness in his tone cutting through the lightness of the moment. “I want to. But everything is different now. You’re in L.A., I’m in Chicago…”

“But what if we tried?” she urged, her heart racing at the thought of losing him again.

Connor took a deep breath, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I don’t want to hurt you again. We’ve come so far.”

“I know,” she said softly, her heart aching.

“But we’re happy now. Can’t we just enjoy this?”

She looked at him, and for a moment, it felt like the world faded away. “Yeah, let’s just enjoy this.”

As the weekend unfolded, their connection deepened

As the weekend drew to a close, the once bright spark of excitement began to dim, leaving behind a lingering sense of melancholy. Y/N and Connor spent their final hours together in quiet reflection, driving through the small town that had witnessed their shared history. It had been a weekend filled with laughter and warmth, but the uncertainty about their future remained.

The day they had to say goodbye arrived too soon. Connor was scheduled to fly back to Chicago, and Y/N had a flight back to Los Angeles the next morning. They stood in the driveway of her house, the chill of the autumn air pressing in on them.

“This feels harder than I thought it would be,” Connor said, his voice low as he looked down at Y/N.

“I know,” she replied softly, wrapping her arms around herself, as if the cold wasn’t just from the air, but from the inevitable goodbye.

Connor reached out and took her hand. “We’ve always had something special. But with you in L.A. and me in Chicago… I don’t know if I can handle the distance. I don’t want to keep dragging this out just to end up hurting each other.”

Y/N nodded, though her heart twisted painfully. She knew what he was saying was logical, but the emotions they had shared over the weekend had reignited something in her she wasn’t ready to let go of.

“I get it, Connor. But I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I wish we could try.”

His hand tightened around hers, his eyes softening with regret. “I do too. But we agreed to just enjoy the moment, right? And that’s what we did.”

She looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears, but she forced a smile. “Yeah, let’s leave it at that.”

They hugged for a long moment, neither one wanting to let go. But eventually, Connor pulled away, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“You too, Connor.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Back in Los Angeles, Y/N threw herself into her studies again. The first few days were tough—she found herself replaying every conversation, every moment she and Connor had shared. She kept telling herself that she had made peace with their goodbye, but the quiet moments between her busy schedule reminded her otherwise.

But as time passed, she started to heal. University life picked up pace, and she found herself surrounded by friends and new experiences. Slowly, the ache of their goodbye lessened.

Meanwhile, in Chicago, Connor felt the opposite. Life in the NHL had been his dream for as long as he could remember, and playing for the Blackhawks was everything he had worked for. But the high of being in the league didn’t fill the emptiness inside him. He found himself thinking about Y/N constantly—about how she had looked at him with such hope in her eyes that weekend, and how he had let her go. He had told himself it was the right thing to do, but each day, the weight of that decision felt heavier.

Despite the distance, they hadn’t completely severed their connection. A few weeks after their goodbye, Connor followed Y/N on social media again, and she followed him back. It was a small gesture, but one that kept them tethered. Small texts started to trickle in—wishing each other good luck during games, asking how school was going, commenting on random things they saw online. It was casual, almost like two old friends who had drifted apart but still cared about each other.

For Y/N, these texts became easier as the months passed. She no longer felt the pang of loss every time she saw Connor’s name pop up on her screen. She had started dating again, nothing serious, but enough to remind her that life went on. She was healing, slowly but surely.

But for Connor, each message was a reminder of what he had walked away from. His teammates noticed he wasn’t quite himself—he was playing well, but there was a distance in his demeanor. Every time he texted Y/N, a part of him wished he could say more. He missed her, missed the way she understood him, missed the way she made him laugh. The loneliness gnawed at him, growing more unbearable with each passing day.

One night, after a particularly tough game, Connor found himself scrolling through his messages with Y/N, rereading their short exchanges. He stared at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to reach out, to tell her he’d made a mistake. That he was willing to try long distance, that he didn’t care about the miles between them, that he’d wait for her—however long it took.

With a deep breath, Connor typed out a message: Hey, can we talk? I’ve been thinking a lot, and I miss you. I want us to try again, and I’m okay with long distance if you are. I just need you to know that I’ll wait for you.

Just as he was about to hit send, he hesitated. His thumb hovered over the send button, but something stopped him. Instead, he opened her Instagram, a habit he had picked up over the last few weeks. He scrolled through her recent posts, his heart aching as he saw her smiling, surrounded by friends, seemingly happy. And then he froze.

There was a new post—a picture of Y/N and a guy. They were sitting close together on a bench, the sun setting behind them, casting a warm glow over their faces. The guy had his arm around her, and though it wasn’t an overly intimate photo, the look in Y/N’s eyes as she smiled up at him said everything.

Connor’s stomach dropped. His hand clenched around his phone, his heart pounding in his chest. The words he had just typed out seemed suddenly foolish, pointless. She was moving on. She was happy. And he had no right to disrupt that, not after he had been the one to let her go.

Without another thought, he deleted the message, staring at the blank screen as the reality of his decision came crashing down on him.

Connor shut his phone off and leaned back on his couch, closing his eyes as regret washed over him. He had made a choice, and now he had to live with it. But in the back of his mind, the thought that maybe—just maybe—he had lost the one person who truly understood him, refused to go away.

[kaiser1ns]

BOY IN LUV ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ITOSHI SAE X FEM!READER .ᐟ you make me so angry and mad for no reason. i'm serious, but you make me into a loser who picks fights with you. why do i care so much about you? you're making a big boy act like a little kid but I'm going to flip the situation, from friends to lovers.

GO TO THE EVENT MASTERLIST

Your profile picture is the same, but why does Itoshi Sae keep checking it? He sees you every day, why is it so different now? Even if he ignores you or acts cold, he can’t push you out of his mind. Five minutes until the clock strikes midnight, and for some reason, he's confused but also angry. So many questions as to why, how, and what but never a clear answer. He is getting nervous, but don’t misunderstand, he is not an easy guy. Pathetic. Who are you? Are you that great? 

yn: are you free tomorrow?

He saw your text message, but he isn’t pressing send. He suddenly froze and blinked as the phone screen went off, just like his mind, because for someone called a genius, he can’t make sense of this and the way you are shaking up his heart.

yn: sae, i know you are free~ so let’s go somewhere tomorrow night, my treat okay?

Why do you keep teasing him? Playing mind games? Two-timing? He is serious, but you make him into a loser who picks fights with you. Why does he care so much about you? You're making a big boy act like a little kid.

Sae is used to controlling things exactly as he plans. But now, he is standing in front of your door, a bunch of expensive chocolate bars in his hand, and he doesn’t even know why. Midnight has come and gone, and instead of ignoring your texts like he intended, he’s here.

Leaving you on read, hoping the silence would speak for itself. But it made it more confusing for him. The midfielder saw the way you’d tease him with emojis and little jokes, you'd nudge him to join you somewhere or try a new spot in the city. Usually, he'd find a way to brush it off, his replies short and dry, or nonexistent. But tonight? Tonight, his feet took him down familiar streets, past the corner store, until he was at the counter, holding a bar of chocolate he knew you'd like. 

He notices things about you he’d never let himself notice before—your expression, the flirting in your messages, the way you manage to be less annoying than anyone else who decides to talk to him. Say and do whatever you want, he ... he never had a problem with you. Always near him, even if he didn't want you to be.

The moment you open the door, eyes widening in surprise, he feels… something. Maybe it’s the way you look at him, surprised but pleased, or the way the midnight air feels charged between you. You glance down at the chocolate bar, one eyebrow raised, silently questioning him.

“Sae…?”

He almost rolls his eyes, but his hand extends forward. “Happy birthday,” he mumbles, almost cold. He doesn’t even know if that’s what he’s supposed to say, and what did he actually have to tell you? I don't know why you make me feel this way and do such ridiculous things, but here's the chocolate, and now please leave me alone because I don't know what to think when I'm next to you. His heart is racing, and he has no idea why he suddenly thought this was a good idea.  

Your smile makes something bubble inside him, something hot melting his icy shield. You step aside, letting him in, and as the door clicks shut behind him, he follows you into your living room. It’s decorated a little bit, but nothing fancy. A happy birthday sign, candy, and a picture of the two of you as kids that sat on the cabinet above the TV. He raised an eyebrow at the picture, it was from your birthday again, but as kids. He's got cake cream all over his nose and cheeks while the cream is on your fingers and you're giving the peace sign and smiling and he's still grumpy. Sae remembers how you kissed his cheek afterward, and it felt disgustingly nice.

“So to what can I owe your surprising visit, Mr. Prodigy?”

He’s silent and tense, but his heart races as you settle next to him on the couch, close enough that you lean your head on his shoulder as his hand drifts to rest on yours, fingers barely brushing yours, but it’s enough. He pretends not to notice how his hand starts to drift closer, how the warmth from your skin seeps into his.

"I didn’t feel like waiting till tonight," he murmurs, voice softer than usual, though his usual coldness is still held in his gaze. But his hand is another story—it’s more insistent, slowly interlacing his fingers with yours as though he’s grounding himself. "Don’t make me say it," he grumbles, eyes fixed ahead, but his thumb brushes over your knuckles in soft, deliberate circles. He pretends not to notice, but it’s clear—you got this man being impatient like a little kid. You’re both completely whipped for each other, so how about flipping the situation, from friends to lovers?

©2024 kaiser1ns nineteenth birthday party.

[multific]

Held by Fate

Eric Draven x Reader

Summary: You thought you met him by chance, but it was all fate.

The streets were quiet as you walked home that evening, the soft glow of the streetlights didn't help much in the dark.

You had stayed late at work, finishing up a project, and now the city had taken on an eerie darkness. The air was cold making you shiver and urging you to quicken your pace.

You didn’t mind walking alone at night, it was something you had done countless times before. But tonight, something felt different, something was definitely off and you couldn't point it out just yet.

As you turned the corner onto another street, your heart rate spiked.

Three men emerged from the shadows, blocking your path. Their eyes were filled with ill intentions, and a cruel smirk played on the lips of the one in the middle.

You audibly gulped.

“Hello there, Sweetheart. What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?” one of them said as he took a step closer.

You clutched your bag tightly, your mind racing for a way out. “I… I’m just heading home. Please, let me pass.” Probably not the best idea to mention your home in case they follow you. But you were in full panic mode.

The men laughed, which was probably not a good sign. They moved in, surrounding you, and you could feel your breath quickening.

You tried to think of a way out but your mind was blank.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” another one said, his voice dripping with menace.

Before you could react, a voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Leave her alone.”

You turned toward the source of the voice, your heart pounding in your ears.

Standing a few feet away was a man in a worn leather jacket, his hands clenched into fists. It took you a moment to recognize him. Eric.

He was the man you had helped at the grocery store just a few days ago.

The leader of the group sneered. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Eric stepped forward, his expression cold and unwavering. “I said, leave her alone.”

Something about the way he said it, the determination in his voice, made the men hesitate. For a moment, it seemed like they were weighing their options.

Then, with a grunt of frustration, the leader waved his hand dismissively.

“Whatever, man. Let’s go. The bitch is not worth it.”

The three men backed off, disappearing into the shadows where they came from. You let out a shaky breath, the tension draining from your body.

Eric approached you, his gaze softening as he saw the fear in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, though your legs felt like jelly. “Yes, thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

Eric offered a faint smile.

“I’m just glad I got here in time.” He glanced around, making sure the men were truly gone before turning back to you. “Let me walk you home. It’s not safe out here.”

You hesitated for a moment but then nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

As the two of you began walking, the initial shock wore off, and you found yourself stealing glances at him.

He seemed different from the first time you met, he looked a lot more confident.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” you said after a moment.

“Yeah, neither did I. Funny how life works, huh?” he chuckled.

“How have you been?” you asked cautiously, remembering the brief conversation you’d had with him at the store.

You met him when he was in front of you at the store, he was a little short on change and the cashier was riding his ass about it. You stepped in and paid for him. After, he was thankful and he had a short conversation with you. This is when he mentioned something about getting back on his feet.

This was a couple months ago.

He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s been… tough. I just got out of rehab a couple of weeks ago. Trying to stay clean, stay sober. It’s a day-by-day thing.”

“That sounds really hard. But it’s good that you’re trying.” something about his honesty touched you.

Eric glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

“Most people don’t say that. They either avoid me or look at me like I’m a lost cause.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re a lost cause. You saved me tonight. That counts for something.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Thanks. That means more than you know.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights casting a soft glow on the wet pavement. Eventually, you reached your apartment building. You turned to face Eric, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and curiosity.

“This is me,” you said, gesturing toward the entrance.

Eric nodded, lingering a moment longer. “I’m glad you’re okay. If you ever need anything… well, I’m around.”

You hesitated, then reached into your bag and pulled out a small notepad. Scribbling your number on a piece of paper, you handed it to him.

“In case you ever need someone to talk to.”

Eric stared at the paper for a moment before taking it, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Thanks. I… I really appreciate that.”

“Goodnight, Eric.”

“Goodnight.”

As you watched him walk away, you couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t the last time your paths would cross. There was something about him—a quiet strength, a hint of sadness, and an undeniable kindness—that stayed with you long after you closed the door behind you.

Little did you know, that night was just the beginning.

A/N: Part 2 is currently in progress.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[urdreamydoodles]

Remy LeBeau "Gambit" x Fem!Reader

Laughing at every jokes he make

You find yourself on a romantic stroll with Remy LeBeau, where his playful jokes and charming demeanor lead to a deeper connection. As your laughter draws you closer, you both realize there's more than just flirtation between you, culminating in a tender and passionate moment.

The warm glow of the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the streets of New Orleans, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and the lively hum of jazz music in the distance. You found yourself walking alongside Remy LeBeau, your hand barely brushing against his as the two of you meandered through the quiet backstreets. The gentle breeze carried with it the rich smells of the city and a sense of anticipation you could feel in your bones, a feeling heightened whenever you were in his presence.

Remy had insisted on taking you out for a stroll, away from the chaos of your usual lives as X-Men, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. It was impossible to say no to that roguish smile of his, the one that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who could see through his devil-may-care attitude to the heart beneath. Today, though, Remy was especially playful, cracking jokes at every turn.

“Y’know,” he began, his deep Cajun accent weaving through his words like music, “if de X-Men ever decide t’fire me, I got a back-up career as a stand-up comedian.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light and airy, though the joke itself was far from laugh-out-loud funny. “You sure about that? You might want to keep practicing.”

His grin widened, eyes flashing with a spark of mischief. “Practice? Chère, I’m already a master. Ain’t nobody got charm like Remy LeBeau.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, a little louder this time. There was something about the way he said things, like he didn’t care whether they were funny or not—he was confident you’d laugh anyway. And, of course, you did. It wasn’t just the jokes themselves, though. It was the way he carried himself, with a swagger that spoke volumes, and the way he’d glance at you, his red-and-black eyes lingering just a little too long, sending a shiver down your spine.

Remy raised an eyebrow as he leaned in closer. “Now you laughin’, but I know y’thinkin’ I got potential.”

“Potential to get booed off the stage, maybe,” you teased, nudging his arm with your shoulder, your eyes crinkling at the corners from how hard you were smiling.

“Ah, chère, you wound me!” Remy dramatically placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt, though his smirk gave him away. “Lucky for me, I got a beautiful girl like you t’keep me company. Long as you laughin’, dat’s all dat matters.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the casual compliment, even though you were used to his flirtations by now. Being called “beautiful” by Remy was like being told the sky was blue—he said it so often, you’d think it would lose its effect. But it never did. It always felt like a small flame igniting inside you every time the word passed his lips.

Your laughter faded into a quiet smile as you glanced up at him, watching the way the evening light softened his sharp features. Remy had a way of making everything feel light, like the weight of the world could fall away when you were with him. He was always making jokes, always teasing, and you always laughed, even when they weren’t all that funny. It wasn’t that his jokes were bad—they just didn’t always hit the mark. But the way he looked at you when he delivered them, with that lazy, confident grin, you couldn’t help but laugh. Because he was trying, and because, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, his laughter became contagious, drawing your own out of you like a melody that was meant to be sung.

As the two of you continued walking, you noticed Remy glance at you out of the corner of his eye, the smile on his lips softening. There was something different in his expression now, something quieter and more thoughtful. He stopped suddenly, taking your hand in his without a word, guiding you toward a small, secluded park nestled between two rows of charming old houses.

“C’mere,” he said softly, pulling you toward a bench shaded by a large oak tree. The branches above rustled gently in the breeze, casting dappled shadows on the ground beneath your feet. Remy sat down, his hand still holding yours, and patted the spot next to him.

You sat, feeling the warmth of his body close to yours, your hand still tingling from his touch. The playful banter had died down now, replaced by a silence that felt… deeper, more intimate.

“Y’know,” Remy began after a moment, his voice quieter than before, “I been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t often that Remy got serious, and when he did, you knew it was important. “What’s on your mind?”

He looked at you, his red-on-black eyes meeting yours in a way that made your breath catch. “I been thinkin’ ‘bout you. ‘Bout us.”

There was a pause, the words hanging in the air between you like the last note of a song waiting to fade. You weren’t sure what to say, so you waited, letting him find the words.

“You always laugh at my jokes,” he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even when they ain’t so funny. Why’s dat, chère?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. It seemed so simple, but the way he asked it—like it meant more than just the surface—made your heart stutter in your chest. You glanced away for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts, before looking back at him with a smile of your own.

“I guess… I just like hearing you talk,” you said, feeling the truth of it even as you spoke the words. “Doesn’t matter if the joke is funny or not. I like being around you, Remy. You make me feel… lighter. Happier.”

His expression softened at that, his smile turning more genuine, more tender. “Dat so?” he murmured, leaning just a little closer, his voice low and smooth, like the soft rumble of thunder in the distance.

You nodded, your heart thudding in your chest. “Yeah, it is. I don’t think I could stop laughing around you even if I tried.”

For a moment, Remy said nothing, just watched you with an intensity that made your skin tingle. Then, without warning, he reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin longer than necessary. His touch sent a thrill down your spine, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

“Y’know,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I been doin’ a lot of thinkin’ ‘bout how lucky I am.”

“Lucky?” you echoed, your voice quieter now, the world around you seeming to fade as the space between you and Remy grew smaller.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his hand still resting lightly against your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Lucky dat someone like you’d wanna spend time wit’ someone like me. Wit’ all my bad jokes an’ all.”

You laughed, the sound soft and breathless, and Remy’s smile widened at the sound. “I think I’m the lucky one,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Remy’s eyes darkened slightly at that, and you could feel the air between you shift, becoming charged with something unspoken. For a long moment, neither of you moved, the world narrowing to just the two of you, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, Remy leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Can I kiss you, chère?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears as you nodded, unable to form words. The moment you did, Remy’s lips met yours, soft and warm, sending a surge of electricity through your entire body. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened as Remy wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

You melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back, every thought in your mind dissolving into the sensation of being this close to him. His lips were firm yet soft, his touch tender but possessive, as though he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Remy rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in soft, shallow pants. He smiled, a real smile, the kind that reached his eyes, and your heart swelled in your chest.

“Now dat’s a punchline I can get behind,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

And just like that, you laughed again, not because the joke was funny, but because you were happy—truly, completely happy.

[eelnoise]

paradigm shift

zoro x afab!reader c/w: jealous zoro, he raises his voice/yells at reader, possessive behavior, fwb to lovers, semi-public sex, piv sex a/n: inspired by a conversation @sunfloworcs and i had. meant to post this last night but i forgor! anyway here's wonderwall

Zoro watches you smile at the man attempting to court you at the bar. He watches as you laugh at something he says before replying in a manner that's a little too enthusiastic for the brooding swordsman in the corner.

He grits his teeth and tightens the grip on his drink, frustrated at the sight across the tavern.

The way your cheeks flush with mild inebriation makes Zoro clench the hand on his knee into a fist. His leg doesn't seem to stop bouncing as he glares in your direction, the tick going unnoticed due to his annoyance at the patron you're speaking with and himself for even caring.

You're not exclusive. The length of your shared relationship had been long decided as friends who just fuck on the side for a little stress relief, so why the hell does he care that some nobody is trying to coax you into their bed?

He takes a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth in what ultimately proves to be a feeble attempt at calming himself. It almost works, but as he brings the mug of ale to his lips he notices you lean in a little closer to the man, that undeniable look of desire flickering in your heavy-lidded expression that Zoro knows all too well.

Before he can even think to stop himself, Zoro stands from his seat and makes his way toward you, heavy boot steps trudging against the wooden floor of the tavern.

You don't notice his approach, far too lost in the music and conversation to really pay attention. It's only when his large hand envelops the small of your back that you pay him any mind.

"Yeah, if you wanna get out of here maybe we could fin-" the hopeful patron begins, the remainder of the sentence lost to time as Zoro rudely interrupts.

"We're leavin'," the pirate states bluntly, pulling you away from the man without hesitation.

"But-" You call out, a hand reaching in hopeless desperation toward the bar where your soon-to-be abandoned drink sits. "The others?"

"Fuck 'em," Zoro snaps, not looking in your direction as he leads you through the door and out into the humidity of the island. "They'll catch up."

"What's wrong with you?" Your voice wavers with uncertainty as you try and fail to wriggle from his tight grip upon your forearm. "Why're you so pissed at me?"

"I'm not pissed at ya!" Zoro shouts back defensively, stopping short to face you. "But I don't want some random asswipe tryin' to sweet talk my shipmate!"

You nearly trip over yourself when he suddenly comes to a halt in the middle of the street, the once lively town now having fallen into a slumber of its own. "So you just get up and leave?" You reply, managing to keep your balance before staring up at him angrily, a slight tilt to your head in mild confusion. "And what do you care if someone wants to 'sweet talk' me?"

"Because I care about ya!" Zoro barks, feeling his heart race in his chest. "I don't want anyone else touchin' what's mine!"

Your eyes widen, paralyzed in place as the words hang in the air somewhat awkwardly. Zoro's expression is still one of anger, brows furrowed and mouth twisted into a harsh frown. "I-" you swallow, shaking your head in an attempt to be rid of the butterflies threatening to form in your belly. "What's yours?" You finally echo, tone wavering between frustration and disbelief.

"You!" Zoro yells, grabbing you by the shoulders and forcing you to look directly into his eyes. "Me and you, we've got somethin' special goin' on! We don't need anyone complicatin' things!"

You part your lips as if wanting to speak before averting his gaze with an unreadable expression. Your brows are raised and your hands tremble at your sides. "I thought we decided to just keep it casu-" Zoro cuts you off with a firm grip to your chin, forcing your gaze upon him once more.

"That doesn't matter!" He huffs, the hand on your shoulder twitching slightly as he fights off the urge to move it to the back of your neck. "Fuck," Zoro groans, the low timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. He looks around quickly, and before you can say anything you feel him start to pull you along by the arm again and down a stray alleyway.

You hurry along behind him as best you can, accepting your fate within his iron grip. He stops and you hear him sigh heavily, his shoulders tensing in irritation. "Zoro...?"

"Shut up." He commands harshly as he releases your aching wrist, turning to face you with a fierce scowl etched into his features.

You let out a sound akin to a squeak, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as if you had done something wrong. Suddenly you feel vulnerable. Small. Your eyes dare not leave his, unsure and anxious emotions swelling in your mind. You feel your mouth go dry.

"I can't keep pretendin' that this is just a casual thing between us," Zoro declares, taking a step closer to you. "I know what we agreed on, but I can't help it. I want more."

You heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest. "Zoro-" you whisper, but the swordsman holds up a hand to stop you, not done speaking just yet. If he's going to do this, to expose how he feels, he needs you to shut up and listen.

"I don't want to share ya," He continues, his voice and words blunt. "I already told ya, I don't want anyone else touchin' what's mine." He leans in closer, his warm breath brushing against your earlobe.

Your back clashes with one of the outer walls of the two shops you're tucked in between. Zoro's hand finally finds the nape of your neck, leaning in even further until his lips ghost over yours. "Truth is," he murmurs, thumb caressing your soft skin. "I'm crazy about ya."

And at once, Zoro's lips crash onto your own, engulfing you in an open-mouthed, somewhat messy kiss. Your arms find purchase around his shoulders, eagerly reciprocating the gesture without a second thought. As your tongues dance together, Zoro's hand reaches down to cup your ass, pulling your body flush against his.

A surprised gasp is muffled between a mess of lips and tongue and teeth, the hands on his broad shoulders tightening their grasp at the newfound contact. With a low groan, Zoro breaks away from the kiss, panting heavily. "Now let's get one thing straight," he growls, running his fingers through your hair. "Ya belong to me."

You nod, a huff of what sounds like a breathless whimper of an 'Mhm!' falling from your parted, wet lips.

Grinning triumphantly, Zoro pulls you into another deep, passionate kiss. This time there's no hesitation, no holding back - it's pure desire and hunger and everything else that comes with wanting someone more than anything else in the world. And while your tongues continue to duel and your bodies pressed firmly together, Zoro's hand moves to cup your cheek before trailing down your neck to rest upon the exposed skin of your collarbone. He bites lightly at your jawline, his mouth leaving yours to taste your flesh and leaving a trail of fire wherever he goes.

When he reaches the hem of your shirt, his large, warm hand slides beneath the fabric and meets the soft skin of your torso. A soft moan escapes your throat at the intimate touch, and though he's heard your symphony many times, this note is different. It sends an unfamiliar, but not unwanted jolt to his heart. As if something tugs at his very soul.

Zoro stops in his tracks, thumb just brushing the underside of your breast. His mouth leaves your skin, and you mourn the loss of his touch until he raises his head to look upon the whole of you once more. He scans your face as if committing to memory, and in what seems like an instant, he locks you into another kiss that takes your breath away.

It's tender and careful, each touch working as wordless confessions.

It's almost romantic.

His arms wrap around your middle, lifting you and pressing you flat against the wall. His lips never leave yours either, it's as if you're quite literally glued to one another. When he finally pulls away, he's breathless, and there's a glimmer in his eye that wasn't there before. "You're mine," he repeats, smirking almost wickedly. "And I'm not lettin' go."

Zoro's hand resumes its tour of your body, sliding back under your shirt and grazing over your breast. Your legs wrap around him and he rolls his hips into you, watching as you writhe for him. "You're always on my mind," he admits, his voice heavy and rough. "Even when we're apart."

He descends down your neck, trailing kisses and nibbles and licks to your tender skin. "I can barely keep my hands off ya," Zoro murmurs into you. "If I had my way you'd be in my bed every single night."

"But," Zoro says firmly, breaking away from your neck to look into your eyes. "I won't settle for less than all of ya. I want your heart too."

You exhale as if you'd been holding your breath in for days. You'd be denying yourself truth if you say that you aren't interested - that you're content with just being crewmates once again. But you're not content with it; for at some point in the circumstance of your relationship, what had started as a quick means to an end had indeed grown into something more raw and real.

Something more than just infatuation, more than just lust.

"You have it," you whisper, a flood of warmth bathing your heart. "Zoro, you've had it for a while." The confession is soft, and your tone is a little rasp and hoarse from the intensity of the moment.

Zoro smiles, the gesture reaching all the way to his eyes. He leans down to capture your lips again in a yearning kiss, and as your lips lock together, his hand moves lower still, sliding up your thigh and beneath your skirt. He teasingly skims along the edge of your panties before dipping beneath the fabric. A breathy gasp falls from your lips, the sound thankfully swallowed by Zoro's hungry kiss.

He groans, feeling your wetness against his fingers. "Damn, ya drive me crazy, y'know that?" he mutters against your lips. You whine as he touches you, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure and clutching him ever closer to you. "But I love it," he adds, pulling away from the kiss to gaze down at you with a smirk. "Love how much ya need me."

"Always need you," you reply, lips swollen and glossed over with saliva. "All of you."

With a wicked grin, Zoro pulls back slightly, giving you a better view of his erection straining against his pants. He pulls his hand out from beneath your skirt just long enough to free his aching length from its confines before wrapping it around himself, stroking his cock lazily while watching your face contort in anticipation.

He aligns himself with you, carefully sliding your panties to the side. With a hiss, he pushes himself into you. Zoro's slower than usual, but still just as needy and desperate as ever. He buries himself to the hilt within your warm, plush walls, filling you completely until there's no room left for doubt or denial.

You cry out in surprise and ecstasy, back arching off the wall as Zoro begins to fuck you relentlessly. He holds nothing back, diving into you with all his strength as if trying to claim every inch of your being. His free hand digs into your hipbone, keeping you anchored to him while he pounds into you mercilessly. "Nobody else can have ya," he growls into your ear. "Nobody else can fuck ya like this either, isn't that right, princess?"

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the breath needed for anything more than short gasps of air. Your whole body quivers with each thrust, desperate to take everything he has to offer. Zoro seems determined to make sure you remember exactly what it feels like to be taken by him - and to show everyone within earshot just how much he owns you.

The sound of footsteps echo through the alleyway behind you, causing you both to stiffen momentarily before relaxing again. Clearly, whoever it was didn’t stick around to see what was going on. Zoro doesn’t let go of you though, continuing to fuck you with unrelenting force even as you both know they could come back at any moment.

And you're lost in him once again, completely bent and shaped to his will. Breathless and broken attempts at speech mix in between gasps and moans and sighs of pleasure. He moans softly into your ear, feeling your submission wrapping around him like a warm embrace. It fuels his desire even further, pushing him to go harder and faster until there's no thought left beyond the primal need to fuck you senseless.

It seems like his pace won't ever let up, soon losing any cadence to his motions as his eye closes tightly. A wild light burns within him as he loses himself completely in the act of taking you. The sounds of the village fade away, replaced by only the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh and the ragged breath shared between you both.

Your inner walls flutter around him wildly, moans befalling into frantic whimpers that tell him just how close you are to cumming around his cock. You feel yourself reaching the brink, and without warning, Zoro suddenly pulls out of you.

For a brief moment, he leaves you empty and aching - before shoving himself back inside you with a ferocity that makes you cry out in shock. His movements become frantic, almost violent as he tries to bring you over the edge with him.

As your orgasm washes over you, Zoro lets out a near-animalistic growl deep in his throat. His hips piston forward relentlessly, driving himself deeper and deeper into you with each pulse of euphoria. You scream his name, the blissful sensations coursing through your body as waves of pleasure crash over you again and again.

Zoro's moans into your ear grow more erratic, feeling his own peak building rapidly. With one final surge of power, he drives deep into you one last time before releasing himself fully inside and filling you to the brim with his spend. The sensation sends shockwaves through you, leaving you a shuddering and panting mess around him.

Zoro holds you tightly as your head lolls into his shoulder, body twitching slightly as you recover from his harsh fucking. He pulls out from you slowly, giving you a moment to catch your breath before withdrawing completely. Once he does, he helps you straighten up and adjust your clothes before leading you out of the alleyway.

Despite the roughness of your encounter, there's an underlying sense of tenderness in his movements - a reminder that he truly does care for you deeply. And as you walk toward the port where the Sunny is anchored, neither of you speak; instead, you revel in the afterglow of what just conspired between the two of you. There's something incredibly intimate about it now, knowing that you both feel the same way for one another, and it leaves you feeling closer than ever before.

"Zoro," Your voice catches him off guard, the swordsman seemingly lost in thought.

"Hm?" He replies, looking down at you with a raised brow.

You entwine your fingers with his, holding his much larger hand tightly within your own as you point in the opposite direction.

"The ship is that way."

[kaiyunsim]

like the movies —

pairing : idol!sohee x barista!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

summary : lee sohee comes by to a local coffee shop after practice to try and catch some energy where he meets you.

warnings : fluff, kinda crack, nervous sohee, some timeskips

a/n : sohee is SOSO cute i love him so much

— wc : 1.1k — not proof read —

lee sohee walks into the small coffee shop just as the sun begins to rise, his duffle bag slung over one shoulder and his hair still damp from the post-practice shower. the morning air is crisp, and the warmth of the cafe envelops him instantly, bringing with it the rich scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries. he sighs, grateful for a moment of calm after hours of intense practice.

it isn’t his first time here. the shop, tucked away on a quiet street corner, has become his sanctuary on early practice days. but today, something, or rather, someone catches his eye. behind the counter stands you, arranging a display of croissants with a focused expression. your movements are unhurried yet precise, and a faint smile plays on your lips as you work. sohee feels his heart skip, an unexpected jolt in his otherwise routine morning.

he shuffles to the counter, trying not to stare too obviously. when you turn to greet him, your eyes meet his, and he almost forgets what he came for.

“good morning,” you say, your voice soft but bright. “what can i get for you?”

sohee blinks, then quickly glances at the menu as if he hasn’t already memorized his go-to order. “a latte, please. and a blueberry muffin.”

you nod, tapping the order into the register. “coming right up.”

as you prepare his drink, sohee watches, captivated by the way you move with ease behind the counter. he can’t pinpoint why, but something about you feels… grounding. comforting, even. when you hand him his latte and muffin, your fingers brush briefly, and he feels a spark that makes him linger a moment longer than necessary.

“thank you,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

“you’re welcome. enjoy your morning,” you reply, your smile widening just a fraction.

he takes a seat by the window, pretending to check his phone but stealing glances at you as you tend to other customers. the warmth of the coffee seeps through the cup, but it is nothing compared to the warmth blooming in his chest.

from that day on, sohee finds himself returning to the cafe after every early practice. at first, he tells himself it is just for the coffee. but as the days turn into weeks, it becomes clear that it isn’t the caffeine drawing him back—it is you.

and you notice. at first, he is just another regular in the steady stream of customers. but there is something endearing about the way he always seems slightly shy, his eyes darting to meet yours before quickly looking away. he mumbles a soft “thank you” every time you hand him his drink, his voice warm and genuine. you start to anticipate his order, preparing a latte and blueberry muffin as soon as you see him walk through the door.

one morning, as he approaches the counter, you place the latte and muffin down before he can say anything.

“your usual, right?” you ask, a playful glint in your eyes.

sohee freezes for a split second, then nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “y-yeah. thank you.”

“you’ve been coming here a lot lately,” you say casually, leaning against the counter. “are you always up this early?”

he hesitates, not used to small talk with strangers—especially not strangers as captivating as you. “uh, yeah. practice starts early, so…”

“practice?”

“i’m a... dancer.” he scratches the back of his neck, feeling oddly self-conscious. “it’s… kind of intense sometimes.”

your eyes light up with interest. “that sounds amazing, though. do you perform somewhere?”

he nods. “with a group. we’ve got a show coming up soon, so things have been pretty hectic.”

“well, you must be good if you’re practicing that much,” you say, your tone sincere. “i hope the coffee helps.”

it is a simple comment, but it makes sohee’s heart race. “it does. a lot. thank you.”

from then on, your conversations grow longer, the initial awkwardness melting away. you learn that he has a dry sense of humor that often catches you off guard, making you laugh more than you expect. he discovers that you have a knack for remembering little details about people, like how he prefers his latte extra hot or how he always picks at the muffin top first.

one morning, as he lingers at the counter after ordering, you slide a small to-go cup toward him. “here,” you say. “it’s just a sample of our new seasonal blend. thought you might like to try it.”

he stares at the cup, then at you, his expression softening. “thank you. that’s really nice of you.”

“let me know what you think,” you say, leaning slightly closer. “you’re kind of my unofficial taste tester now.”

his cheeks flush, but he manages a quiet laugh. “guess i’ll have to keep coming back, then.”

“guess so,” you reply, your smile making his chest feel impossibly light.

weeks pass, and the two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm. he comes in after practice, and you have his order ready, often slipping in an extra treat or a note scribbled on the cup. he starts sharing more about his life—the highs and lows of dancing, the pressure of upcoming performances, the joy he finds in creating something meaningful. in return, you tell him about your own dreams and the small moments that make your day brighter.

one day, as the shop’s morning rush dwindles, sohee lingers by the counter longer than usual. he seems nervous, his fingers fidgeting with the strap of his bag.

“hey,” he begins, his voice hesitant. “are you… free later? i mean, after your shift?”

you tilt your head, surprised but curious. “i should be. why?”

“i was thinking… maybe we could grab lunch? or just… hang out?” he looks up, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

your heart skips, warmth spreading through you. “i’d like that.”

the smile that breaks across his face is brighter than the morning sun streaming through the windows. “really?”

“really,” you say, laughing softly. “meet me here after my shift?”

he nods, relief and excitement evident in his expression. “it’s a date, then.”

and as he leaves the cafe that morning, the latte in his hand and a spring in his step, sohee can’t help but feel that this is the start of something wonderful.

[otomehoneyybearr]

Keith VS Kagari

The Beast Tempts the Little Rabbit Episode 1

Ep2 | Ending | Epilogue

If I were to head to Jade on an errand to buy books for the owner—

("Enjoy the seasonal flowers in the flower-viewing event!" ...So that's why it's so lively here.)

Every flower I’d seen was rare, and it filled me with excitement.

(There are so many delicious-looking stalls, and I'm starting to get hungry.)

(I've finished the task the owner asked me to do, so maybe I should just enjoy the event as it is.)

Emma: "Ah...!"

Man: "My bad."

Suddenly, a man running from behind collided with me, causing me to stumble.

Emma: "No, I'm the one who should apologize!"

The man nodded and then hurriedly disappeared into a large mansion along a deserted street.

(I think might have been in the way. I need to be more careful.)

(Huh...?)

I suddenly caught a sweet scent, different from that of flowers, and stopped in my tracks.

Curious, I search for the source of the scent and came across a mobile vendor with a sign that read "DORAYAKI" in large letters.

(Dorayaki is a traditional sweet from Kogyoku, right? I remember Owner made it for me once.)

(It feels strange to see it in Jade.)

My stomach grumbled, expressing its hunger.

(I haven't had it in a while, maybe I should have some.)

Emma: "Excuse me, could I have one dorayaki, please?"

…..

???: "One dorayaki, please."

Staff: "Sorry, buddy. The lady there just bought the last one."

Staff: "Come back tomorrow!"

???: "I see, got it."

???: “...Dorayaki.”

???: "...Hm?"

......

Emma: (Why is this happening...)

???: "..."

(Who is this guy?)

Though I was supposed to be enjoying the event, savoring my first dorayaki in a while and strolling through the town,

I now found myself cornered by a man I didn't recognize.

(Could it be that I just don’t remember him...? Despite him being so eye-catching?)

With his fiery red hair tied up, expressionless emerald eyes, and the sweet, yet fleeting scent that enveloped him, there's no way I could forget him.

The man with the emerald eyes, who had been staring at me intently, slowly brought his well-defined face closer.

Emma: "Hey, there's a suspicious person here!"

???: "Suspicious? That's rude. I was just trying to stop you because you started running."

Emma: "Anyone would run if they realize they're being followed."

I try to escape, but he grabs both of my hands and holds them against the wall, blocking my way out.

(Since it’s come to this, I have no choice but to use what Owner taught me. It’s my first time doing it though…)

Silently apologizing in my mind, I kicked the man with the emerald eyes between the legs as hard as I could—or so thought.

???: "If you’re going to do that, create an opening first."

(Huh? This guy is NOT normal.)

In an instant, the man with the emerald eyes tangled his leg around mine, thwarting my movement.

Words of desperation raced through my mind.

???: " Also, your gaze dropped too low. What good does it do to let your opponent know that your next move is to kick them?"

Emma: "S-sorry?"

(No, wait, why am I being coached right now?)

???: "More importantly, did you forget something?"

Emma: "Huh? Forgotten something...?"

???: "What are you doing?"

(That voice...!)

I turn my face towards the familiar, low, calm voice.

Standing there like a godsend is Prince Keith, the first prince of Jade.

Back when he visited Rhodolite as a royal guest while I was serving as a Belle to select the next king,

I remember being comforted and saved many times by his sincere and boundless kindness, despite his lack of confidence.

(But, Prince Keith has a secret that he can't tell anyone...)

Prince Keith cautiously closes the distance between us.

The usual gentle and calm atmosphere fades away, and is replaced by a glare towards the man with the emerald eyes.

Keith: "I heard your voice and came here. You, move away from her."

(I’m saved...)

Emma & ???:

"Prince Keith..."

"Keith, huh?"

(... Huh?)

Keith: "Huh? Kagari? And Emma?!

(Kagari...? Does that mean he knows Prince Keith?)

Keith: "Why are you two in Jade...? No, more importantly, why are you in such a position...?"

Keith looks back and forth between me and the man with the emerald eyes, and suddenly begins waving his hands in a flustered manner.

His cheeks seem to be slightly flushed and… I have a bad feeling about this.

Keith: "I'm sorry, I had no idea you two were acquainted like that, I... I... I've interfered."

(I knew it, he did misunderstand!)

Keith: "Just ignore me like the annoying weed I am."

Keith: "Or rather, I should disappear as soon as possible, right? Uh, um, best of luck to you both!"

Emma: "Wait, Prince Keith, it's a misunderstanding. Please help me!"

Keith: "Huh?"

...

Emma: "I'm sorry for calling you a suspicious person when you were just trying to return my wallet."

In a café—after the waiter finished taking our orders and left, I immediately bowed deeply as if grabbing onto the table.

Kagari: "It's fine, raise your head."

Keith: "Kagari?"

Kagari: "Sorry for trailing you and cornering you against the wall."

Kagari: "If there's ever a next time, I'll call out to you even if you're eating dorayaki."

Emma: "Ah, so that's why you didn't call out immediately. Thank you for your consideration."

Keith: "Even after all that... Emma, you're truly a generous woman. Thank you."

After showing a relieved expression on his face, Prince Keith clears his throat softly.

Keith: "Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, let me properly introduce him."

Keith: "This is Kagari Amagase, the second prince of Kogyoku."

Keith: "Jade and Kogyoku have had exchanges since ancient times, so Kagari and I have known each other since childhood."

Emma: "I see!"

(That's why their interaction seemed so relaxed, like they're comfortable with each other.)

Keith: "If I remember correctly, wasn't it when the king had you brought from Kogyoku to train me, Kagari?"

Kagari: "Yeah. You had spirit, but you were surprisingly weak."

(I've seen Keith training with Licht before, so it's hard to imagine him being weak.)

Keith: "Those hellish training sessions were unique, both then and now."

Keith: "Those memories are nostalgic..."

From his wry smile, I could tell the training had been extremely harsh.

Keith: "In return for the training, I taught Kagari about medicinal herbs."

Kagari: "Kogyoku is always bustling with injured people, so knowledge of medicinal herbs comes in handy."

(Kogyoku is still a country constantly at war.)

(And Kagari is also feared as a demon.)

From appearances alone, you wouldn't guess it, but his expressionless emerald eyes reflect nothing, which made him a bit intimidating.

Keith: "Kagari, this is Emma, a friend I met in Rhodolite."

Keith: "I know it might sound presumptuous for a giant guy like me to call someone like you my friend."

Emma: "If anything, I might be the presumptuous one. But I'm glad you consider me a friend, Prince Keith."

Keith: "R-really? That's... I'm glad."

His shy smile made me smile in return.

(Prince Keith always brings comfort no matter the situation.)

Kagari: "Rhodolite... Ah."

Kagari: "So that sweet scent earlier was the smell of roses. They bloom year-round there."

Kagari: "Cherry blossoms also bloom all year round in Kogyoku. We're like flower buddies."

Emma: "Right, I guess so."

Keith: "Oh, that sounds nice. Since Jade is also abundant in nature, maybe we could join the club?"

Kagari: "If you join, it'll be more like being plant buddies than flower buddies."

Keith: "That suddenly took away the cuteness... It's sad, but I'll decline joining."

(Prince Keith seems quite disappointed...)

Waiter: "Sorry for the wait."

(Wow...)

The waiter leaves, and I glance at the table.

In front of me is a mille-feuille, in front of Prince Keith is a thick galette with various flavors to enjoy,

And in front of Kagari is a stack of dorayaki.

(I thought the "Dorayaki Tower" was just a joke of a name, but it's quite literal.)

Emma: "I never imagined there would be such whimsical sweets in Jade."

Keith: "The pastry chef here is from Kogyoku, you see. They put it on the secret menu at Kagari's request."

Emma: "I see... What a thoughtful gesture."

Kagari: "Thank you for the food."

After saying a silent prayer, Kagari begins to slice the dorayaki with a knife and quietly starts eating.

His flawless eating style mesmerized me, as it maintained a perfect balance even though it looks like it might collapse at any moment.

Kagari: "Princess."

Emma: "Huh? Princess? Did you mean me—ugh!"

Keith: "..."

In the blink of an eye, the dorayaki is stuffed into my mouth.

Despite feeling flustered, the gentle sweetness of the red bean paste spreads in my mouth as I chew.

Kagari: "Which do you prefer, the dorayaki you had from the mobile vendor or this one?"

Emma: "I, I like them both. By the way, the dorayaki I had was also with smooth red bean paste."

Kagari: "......I'll buy some tomorrow."

(Maybe they were sold out, and he couldn't have any.)

(Kagari is... unpredictable in both thought and action.)

Keith: "Dorayaki is highly effective for Kagari, so it's good to remember just in case something happens."

Emma: "Understood. I'll make sure to remember it well."

Keith: "Right. Emma told us why she came to Jade earlier, but what about you, Kagari?"

Kagari: "I'm hunting someone down."

Next

▼・ᴥ・▼

[lila-lou]

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 3✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Fluff

Word Count: 9843

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

The morning sunlight filtered through the thin motel curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as Sam sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for Dean to finish up in the shower. Sam tapped his foot, hands folded in his lap, glancing every so often at the closed bathroom door. He’d noticed Dean’s pensive mood the night before, the way his brother had seemed lost in thought, staring out the window like he was a million miles away. Sam hadn’t pried, but he had a good guess about what was on Dean’s mind—and who.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Dean stepped out, towel around his neck, looking fresher but still carrying that same thoughtful expression. He barely looked at Sam as he moved to grab his bag, running a hand through his damp hair.

“So”, Sam said casually, crossing his arms, “you’re just gonna keep quiet about it?”.

Dean glanced at him, a bit startled. “About what?”.

Sam gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. “About her”. He let the words hang in the air, watching as Dean’s face shifted from surprise to something softer, almost resigned.

Dean sighed, slinging his bag onto his shoulder and letting out a low chuckle. “You really don’t let up, do you?”.

“Nope", Sam replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. He watched his brother, his gaze steady, waiting for Dean to let him in.

Dean dropped his bag, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his face, still visibly trying to sort through everything that had been on his mind. “It’s… I don’t know, Sammy. It’s been years. I didn’t think I’d see her again, you know? But standing there, looking at her… felt like I was eighteen all over again”. He let out a quiet laugh, the sound tinged with disbelief. “Like nothing had changed”.

Sam nodded, recognizing that rare vulnerability in Dean’s voice. “But things have changed, Dean. You’ve changed. Maybe this time it doesn’t have to end the same way”.

Dean sighed, not answering right away as he tossed his bag onto the bed and started pulling on his jeans, his gaze distant. He seemed to be wrestling with something, that familiar tug-of-war between his feelings and the reality of his life, the job, the constant moving. He didn’t say anything as he shrugged into his shirt and boots, just focused on getting ready, as if he could avoid the conversation by keeping himself busy.

But Sam was already a step ahead, his fingers slipping into his pocket to check that he still had the card you’d given Dean, the card that now had a purpose. Sam glanced down at the small, neatly printed name of your bookstore, the address on the other side, and couldn’t help but feel a small, satisfied smile pull at the corner of his lips. Dean might be stubborn, but Sam knew how to nudge him when he needed it.

Thirty minutes, a pot of coffee, and a stack of bacon and eggs later, Sam finally put his plan into action.

"Alright, take a left here”, Sam said casually, barely looking up as he guided Dean through the quiet streets.

Dean glanced over, a bit confused but following Sam’s instructions anyway. “Didn’t think the library was on this side of town”, he muttered, frowning as he glanced out the window at the unfamiliar neighborhood. “Feels a little… cozy for a library”.

“Oh, it’s a smaller spot”, Sam replied smoothly, keeping his face neutral. “They don’t have a huge selection, but sometimes these places have rare finds, local stuff that doesn’t make it to the bigger branches”.

Dean shrugged, satisfied enough with that explanation as he continued driving. “Well, we’ve checked out stranger places for lore. Long as they’ve got some weird, dusty books, I’m in”.

“Almost there”, Sam replied, suppressing a small smile as he kept up the charade, sneaking glances at the streets to make sure they were heading in the right direction. He couldn’t wait to see Dean’s reaction when he realized what was really going on.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a small, charming storefront with a faded sign above the door displaying the name of your bookstore. Dean pulled to a stop out front, looking up at the sign with a furrowed brow, his hand still resting on the steering wheel as he took in the scene.

“This doesn’t look like a library”, he muttered, suspicion creeping into his voice as he shot Sam a sidelong glance.

Sam just shrugged, unbuckling his seatbelt and giving his brother a perfectly innocent look. “You know, it’s a bookstore. Pretty close. Besides, who’s to say they don’t have something helpful in here? Worth a look, right?”.

Dean’s eyes narrowed, but before he could question it further, Sam had already opened the door and was stepping out of the car, leaving Dean with no choice but to follow.

As they approached the door, Dean’s eyes lingered on the sign, his mind catching up to Sam’s little scheme. Recognition dawned on him, and he shot his brother an incredulous look. “Oh no… you didn’t”, he muttered, realization flashing in his eyes as he put two and two together. He shoved Sam, who only laughed, taking obvious pride in his handiwork.

“Yup, I did”, Sam replied, grinning smugly as he pushed back, his laughter filling the quiet street.

Within seconds, the two were wrestling on the sidewalk, Dean tugging Sam’s head under his arm in a firm hold, trying to keep his brother’s squirming under control. "You little shit!". Sam’s laughter only intensified, and despite his best efforts, Dean felt his own smirk creeping up. They looked like a couple of teenagers, roughhousing on the pavement outside your store.

Just then, the sound of the door opening caught both of their attention. They froze mid-wrestle, Dean’s arm still loosely around Sam’s neck, as they looked up to see you standing in the doorway, arms crossed, an amused smile spreading across your face.

“Dean Winchester”, you said, trying to keep a straight face as you took in the sight of the two brothers tangled up on the sidewalk, “I didn’t realize ‘library’ was code for causing a scene”.

Dean released Sam, clearing his throat as he straightened up, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he shot Sam an annoyed look. “Well, I, uh…”. He faltered, at a loss for words, clearly caught off guard.

Sam, on the other hand, flashed you a wide, unapologetic grin as he straightened up beside his brother, brushing himself off.

Sam’s grin widened, catching the blush creeping up Dean’s neck. He couldn’t resist pushing the moment further. “You know”, he began, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Dean here missed you so much, he insisted we come by first thing in the morning. Couldn’t even wait for a regular library”.

Dean shot him a warning glare, but Sam only continued, his voice dripping with exaggerated sincerity. “I mean, he practically dragged me out of bed just to get here”, Sam added, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “Said it was a top priority”.

Without missing a beat, Dean lunged at Sam, tackling him in an instant as they wrestled yet again, shoving each other around like kids. You stifled a laugh, watching the two brothers tumble and grapple, a whirlwind of limbs, laughter, and grumbled threats.

“You’re dead, Sammy”, Dean muttered, twisting Sam into a quick headlock, though he was clearly holding back, unable to hide the amusement behind his feigned irritation.

“Sure, sure—just don’t choke on how much you missed her”, Sam replied, barely able to get the words out through his laughter as he tried to squirm free.

You finally stepped forward, your arms crossed as you raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Alright, you two—my store’s not a wrestling ring. Think you can keep it together long enough to step inside?”.

Dean finally released Sam again, grumbling under his breath as he straightened up and shot you an almost sheepish smile. “Yeah, well… he deserved it”, he muttered, still trying to shake off his embarrassment.

“I’ll be good”, Sam said, though the look in his eyes suggested he’d take any chance he could to push Dean’s buttons.

You held the door open, motioning for them to come inside, and as Dean stepped past you, you could see that the familiar bravado was tempered with something softer, a vulnerability he was clearly trying to keep hidden. For a split second, he caught your gaze, a quiet smile tugging at his lips, and you felt that spark, the one you’d both danced around years ago, still burning there between you.

Inside, Dean shot Sam a warning look, which Sam met with a silent, amused shrug. You caught a quick, quiet exchange between them that spoke volumes—the easy, unbreakable bond of two brothers who knew each other inside and out.

You looked at Dean, tilting your head with a playful smile, your heart beating a bit faster as you let the words roll out slowly. “So… you’re here because…?”. You trailed off, the hint of hope in your voice barely masked. Part of you wanted him to say it—say that he was here to see you, that he was finally ready to pick up where things had left off all those years ago.

But Dean’s face flushed slightly, and he shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Sam as if searching for an escape. “Uh, well… research, actually”, he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “We’ve got some… work to do. You know, the usual. Research”. He cleared his throat. “Got anything on ghosts? Creepy old stories?”.

Your heart sank for a second, the thrill of seeing him dimmed by the reminder that he hadn’t come just for you—at least, not entirely. But before disappointment could settle in, memories rose to the surface, memories that made his question hit a little differently.

Ghosts.

Dean had asked you about them before, on a quiet night in your room, long ago. It had been a strange conversation, one that had left you wondering about the life he led, a life he’d always kept half-hidden, wrapped in shadows and secrets.

You remembered that night vividly. You’d been sitting together on your bed, the faint glow of your bedside lamp casting a warm light over the room. He’d looked thoughtful, almost hesitant, as if he were weighing whether or not to trust you with something fragile.

Flashback

The two of you had fallen into an easy silence, comfortable with each other’s presence as you shared your thoughts and laughed about everything and nothing. Then, out of the blue, Dean turned to you, his gaze holding an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

“Hey”, he murmured, his tone soft but serious. “Do you… do you believe in ghosts?”.

The question caught you off guard, and you looked at him, searching his face for any hint of a joke, but he was watching you with complete sincerity, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with something quieter, almost vulnerable.

“I mean…”. You hesitated, not sure where he was going with this. “I’ve never seen one myself, but I guess I don’t see why they couldn’t be real”. You shrugged, offering him a curious smile. “Why do you ask?”.

Dean looked away, his expression flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Just wondering”, he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes… sometimes it feels like there’s more out there than we want to believe”.

His words lingered, filling the room with an almost tangible sense of mystery, and for the first time, you got a glimpse of the world he lived in, a world he couldn’t fully explain, even if he wanted to.

“Have you ever seen one?”, you asked, your voice gentle, as if you could feel the weight he carried just beneath the surface.

He looked back at you, his eyes reflecting something dark and haunted. “More than you’d believe,” he said, the honesty in his voice breaking through his usual guard. And in that moment, he didn’t need to say anything more; you understood that he’d seen things, things that most people couldn’t even imagine.

End of the Flashback

The memory faded, but the impact of that night remained, leaving you with a lingering sense of empathy for him and the secrets he’d always carried. You looked at him now, older but still carrying that same shadow, that weight you’d glimpsed all those years ago.

“Ghost stories, huh?”, you replied, trying to keep your tone light. “I might have a few. This place is full of old legends”. You motioned toward a shelf filled with dusty old tomes and folklore collections. “But if you’re here to find the spooky stuff… I get the feeling you know more about it than I do”.

Dean gave you a faint smile, his gaze softening, a hint of that same vulnerability from long ago flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. But… it doesn’t hurt to have a second opinion. You know, for research”.

You couldn’t help but smile, the unspoken connection between you reigniting as you led him toward the shelf, your fingers grazing the spines of the old books. “Well, then, let’s see what kind of ghost stories I can dig up for you”, you murmured, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

And as the two of you stood there, flipping through pages of folklore and old legends, you felt that familiar pull, the same quiet thrill you’d felt back then.

Once you’d gathered a small stack of books, Sam quickly took a few, settling himself comfortably into an armchair in the corner, already flipping through one with intense focus. Meanwhile, you lingered beside Dean, the two of you standing in the quiet space by the bookshelves, a sense of old familiarity weaving around you.

You glanced at him, your expression both curious and a touch suspicious, and you mumbled, “Still into that creepy stuff, huh?”.

Dean’s lips quirked in a small, slightly guilty smile as he scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to brush it off. “Guess you could say it’s… part of the job”.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you searched his face. “Still haven’t told me what that job actually is, though”, you said, your voice soft but pointed. “Unless ‘weird, dusty book hunting’ really is your full-time gig”.

Dean chuckled, but there was a flash of something in his eyes, a flicker of guardedness mixed with a hesitation he seemed to be trying to shake off. He met your gaze, and for a second, it looked like he was considering telling you something real, something he hadn’t shared with anyone outside of the world he lived in.

“Yeah, well… let’s just say it keeps me on my toes”, he replied, his tone deliberately vague but laced with that familiar charm. He shifted his weight, leaning slightly against the bookshelf as he looked at you, his gaze steady. “You know, keeping things spooky has its… perks”.

You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “Uh-huh. Perks like what?”.

Dean’s smile grew, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Like bumping into old friends in cozy bookstores”. His voice softened slightly, the playfulness tempered with something genuine, and he glanced away, as if the words had slipped out without his full permission.

Your heart gave a small, unexpected flutter, and you fought the smile tugging at your lips. “Old friends, huh?”. You let the words hang in the air, the warmth in your tone a gentle acknowledgment of the connection that had always lingered between you both.

He didn’t answer right away, just looked at you, that guarded look giving way to a softer, more open expression. For a brief moment, the years between you seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you, standing there like no time had passed at all.

Dean’s gaze softened as he licked his lips, the playfulness in his eyes turning into something deeper, more intense. You could feel the air between you shift, the lightheartedness slipping away as a quiet, unspoken tension built in its place. His eyes traced a slow path from your face, lingering there for a moment, before moving down, taking in every detail, every change time had added.

You couldn’t help yourself—you mumbled, barely above a whisper, “Pretty close friends, if I remember right”.

Dean’s gaze snapped back to yours, his jaw tightening slightly, and you saw the hint of a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah”, he replied, his voice lower now, a rough edge slipping in. “Real close”.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling your cheeks flush as you added, “I don’t know about you, but for me, old friends usually aren’t the ones I know like that”. Your voice dropped, a little unsteady but carrying a hint of challenge. “I don’t know how my ‘old friends’ feel… or how they taste… or the sound they make when they…”.

You trailed off, the words hanging heavy between you, and Dean’s eyes darkened, his expression faltering for just a moment as the memory of that night—a memory you both clearly hadn’t let go of—washed over you both. His breathing grew a little heavier, and he took a step closer, his hand grazing the shelf behind you as if he needed something to ground himself.

“Careful”, he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze locked onto yours with a quiet intensity that sent a thrill up your spine. “You keep talking like that, and I might start thinking about all the ways I could remind you”.

You swallowed, heart racing as you held his gaze, the words almost daring you to push further. But before either of you could say anything else, Sam’s voice cut through the moment from the corner of the room.

"Hey, uh—found something. Might want to check this out", he said, his tone overly casual, but when you looked over, you saw the smirk on his face, like he knew exactly what he'd interrupted.

Dean exhaled, glancing away as he tried to regain his composure, the faintest flush still warming his cheeks.

And as he joined Sam to study the book, you knew this wasn’t the end of the conversation—it was only the beginning.

Dean stood behind Sam, leaning over his brother’s shoulder as he tried to focus on whatever ghost story Sam was explaining, but the words were slipping past him. His mind was elsewhere, and no matter how hard he tried to push it away, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. He looked up, instinctively searching for you, and there you were, standing by the bookshelf, watching him with that familiar smile. The moment your eyes met, a flicker of something undeniable passed between you. You bit your lip, and the memory came rushing back, the way it always did, pulling him in without permission.

Flashback

It was late, well past midnight, and the world outside was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Dean slipped quietly through your window, as he’d done every night he could manage since that first time the two of you had been together. He’d gotten good at sneaking out—waiting for his dad and Sammy to fall asleep, carefully avoiding the creaky boards on his way out, and making the short walk to your place under cover of night.

This night was no different. He hoisted himself up, landing softly on the floor, and there you were, sitting on your bed in your pajamas, a book in your lap, completely absorbed until you felt his presence. When you looked up and saw him, your face lit up, that familiar warmth in your eyes making his heart pound in a way he’d never admit.

“Miss me?”, he whispered, a cocky grin playing at his lips as he shut the window behind him, doing his best to keep the noise down.

You rolled your eyes, setting the book aside as you sat up a little straighter. “You’re late”, you teased, though there was no bite in your voice, just quiet affection and a hint of relief that he was there.

He shrugged, crossing the room in a few steps until he was right beside you, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a casual front that barely hid how much he looked forward to these stolen moments. “Had to make sure the coast was clear”, he murmured, his voice softer now. “Didn’t want anyone to catch me sneaking away”.

You smiled, tugging him down to sit beside you on the bed. “Well, I’m glad you made it”. Your voice was barely a whisper, laced with a warmth that made his heart skip a beat. There was something about the quiet intimacy of these nights—just the two of you, hidden away from the rest of the world—that made him feel like he could finally breathe, like he could let down all the walls he kept so carefully constructed.

He kicked off his boots, leaning back against the headboard beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

He glanced down at the book you’d been reading, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he reached over, snagging it from your hands before you could protest.

“So, what’s got you all wrapped up?”, he asked, flipping through the pages with a grin. “Let’s see… ‘Gothic romance, secrets of a haunted castle…’”. His eyebrows shot up, and he gave you a playful, knowing look. “Didn’t take you for the ‘brooding hero in a dark castle’ type”.

You laughed, leaning over to try and grab it back, but he held it just out of reach, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, come on, Dean. I like a good mystery”, you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Besides, I’ve got my own brooding hero sneaking in through my window every night”.

He smirked, finally handing the book back, though he kept his gaze fixed on you, his expression softening. “Guess I can’t compete with haunted castles and dark, mysterious strangers, huh?”.

You tilted your head, catching his gaze, and the playful tone in your voice faded, replaced by something softer. “I don’t know, Winchester”, you murmured, holding his eyes. “I think you’ve got them beat”.

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the teasing atmosphere giving way to a quiet intensity. He looked at you like he was memorizing every detail, his usual bravado slipping away to reveal something raw, something he rarely let anyone see.

“Yeah?”, he whispered, his voice barely audible as he leaned in, his hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, warm against your cheek, and you felt your breath catch, the closeness between you charged with an unspoken promise.

You nodded, your voice just as soft. “Yeah”.

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with a quiet urgency, like he was trying to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words. His hand slipped behind your neck, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, all thoughts of haunted castles and mysterious heroes fading away. Right now, this moment, he was yours.

Dean’s hand slid down, fingers gentle yet firm as he guided you backward, his lips never leaving yours as he eased you down onto the bed. He hovered above you, his weight carefully balanced, creating a barrier that was somehow both respectful and filled with an unspoken intensity. You could feel his warmth, his presence surrounding you in a way that was dizzying, comforting, and exhilarating all at once.

For weeks now, the two of you had fallen into this rhythm—a careful dance of stolen kisses and whispered words, the quiet intimacy of your secret nights together. He was cautious, holding back in a way that made your heart ache, like he was afraid to let himself want too much, to let himself take this further. And even now, as he hovered over you, his hand cradling your face with such tenderness, you could feel that same restraint, the silent promise to not ask for more than you were ready to give.

But tonight, something was different. There was a hunger in his kiss that you hadn’t felt before, an urgency in the way his lips moved against yours, and you felt your heart pounding. Your hand moved up, fingers tracing along his jaw, slipping down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your touch. He inhaled sharply, his hand tightening around yours as he pulled back slightly, his gaze intense as he searched your face.

“Dean…”, you murmured, your voice a quiet plea, filled with all the longing you’d been holding back.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw tightening as if he were wrestling with himself, with the weight of everything he’d never dared to hope for. When he opened his eyes, they were dark, filled with a raw, unguarded need that made your breath catch.

“I…”, he started, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t want to mess this up”. He brushed his thumb over your cheek, his touch gentle but trembling, as if he were holding back a flood.

As Dean hovered over you, his hand still warm against your cheek, he remembered a conversation from just a few nights ago. You’d confessed quietly, almost shyly, that he’d been your first kiss. He’d teased you gently, surprised but flattered, but it had also made him realize something deeper—that you were trusting him with parts of yourself you’d never given to anyone else. And he’d quickly pieced it together, understood that, beyond that first kiss, you were letting him in on something new, something vulnerable.

Dean had his fair share of experiences with other girls, each encounter fading into the next, but this—this was different. This was you. And with you, every touch, every look, every whispered word felt like it held weight, like he was being trusted with something precious, something fragile. The last thing he wanted to do was rush or risk hurting you, especially with this kind of intimacy hanging unspoken between you.

He ran a hand gently down your arm, his fingers brushing over your skin with a reverence he hadn’t felt before. “I want this to be… right”, he murmured, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. He looked into your eyes, his gaze softened, that familiar cocky confidence replaced with something raw and open.

You met his gaze, your heart pounding but steady, feeling the depth of what he was offering you. “It is right, Dean”, you whispered, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, grounding him as much as yourself. “I’ve never wanted anything more… Unless.. you don’t want it".

Dean’s eyes softened even more, and he let out a low, almost breathless chuckle as he shook his head. “Oh, sweetheart, trust me”, he murmured, his voice rough but filled with warmth, “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… since the first moment I laid eyes on you”. He brushed a thumb tenderly over your cheek, a quiet smile playing at his lips. “I just… I want it to be right. For you”.

You felt a rush of warmth spread through you, his words wrapping around your heart, settling any remaining nerves you had. The way he looked at you, with that unguarded, honest gaze, made you feel like you were the only person in the world, like there was nothing he wanted more than this moment with you.

“Then it is right”, you whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you let your hand slip from his jaw to rest on his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

He held your gaze for a moment, as if searching for any last trace of doubt, and when he found none, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft yet filled with an intensity that left you breathless. His hand moved down, sliding along your side with a gentleness that seemed almost reverent, like he was taking his time, savoring every moment, every touch, as if this was all he’d ever wanted.

Slowly, he deepened the kiss, his hand moving to your waist, pulling you closer, as his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache in the best way.

As the kiss deepened, Dean’s lips moved slowly, tenderly, against yours, his hands resting on your waist with a gentle but steady pressure, anchoring you both in the moment. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the quiet intensity of his touch, his heartbeat echoing in the space between you.

He broke the kiss just barely, his lips hovering over yours as he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “Tell me if you need me to stop… if it’s too much”. His voice was soft, roughened by the depth of his emotions, and you could hear the restraint, the care, woven into each word.

You shook your head slightly, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile, your hands slipping up to rest on his shoulders, grounding you in his presence. “Dean… I trust you”, you whispered, letting him see the quiet certainty in your eyes, the way you felt fully, deeply safe in his arms.

His gaze softened even more, and he leaned down, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips, his touch filled with a reverence that made your heart ache.

Dean’s hand slipped down to the hem of your sleep shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin beneath with a gentleness that sent a shiver up your spine. His touch was slow, almost reverent, as he traced small circles along your hip, his gaze never leaving yours, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. When he saw none, only the soft trust in your eyes, he let out a breath, as if he, too, had been holding onto nerves he hadn’t let you see.

When his fingers brushed along your sides, gently lifting the fabric, you lifted your arms, helping him ease it up and over your head. You bit your lip, feeling warmth flood your cheeks as you realized you were bare before him, nothing but the soft glow of the moonlight casting gentle shadows over your skin.

Dean’s gaze lingered on your exposed chest. He took a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself, overwhelmed by the sight and the trust you placed in him. The moonlight highlighted the gentle curves of your body, casting shadows that made the moment feel even more intimate and sacred.

“You’re so beautiful”, he whispered, his voice thick with awe and a touch of vulnerability. He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing gently against your skin, starting from your collarbone and making a delicate trail downward, reverent and slow. Each kiss was like a word in a silent vow, honoring the trust and affection you shared.

His hands, always so sure and strong, now trembled slightly as they traced the lines of your body, exploring the softness with a curious and gentle touch. He seemed to memorize every detail, every response his touch elicited from you.

As Dean’s lips brushed gently over your nipple, your breath hitched, a rush of warmth flooding through you. He paused, his eyes lifting to meet yours, seeking reassurance and permission to continue. The concern and care in his gaze were evident, reflecting the depth of his feelings and his desire to ensure that every moment felt right for you.

Seeing the questioning look in his eyes, you gave a small, encouraging nod, your own hands gently caressing the back of his head, guiding him back with a soft assurance.

Dean continued, his touch becoming more assured but no less gentle. He kissed you again, more deliberately this time, his lips enveloping your nipple with a tender warmth that sent a shiver of pleasure through your body. His tongue traced a slow, teasing path, exploring with a patience that had you arching slightly towards him, seeking more of his touch.

Dean’s hand slid to the small of your back, drawing you closer to him, his other hand tracing upwards along your ribcage to cradle the side of your breast, his thumb gently sweeping over your skin. The combination of his lips and the gentle caress of his hand was intoxicating.

The room was filled with the soft, intimate noises of Dean’s careful, exploring mouth and your responsive breaths, which grew sharper with each caress. The faint sounds of your whimpers mingled with the quiet atmosphere, each one sending a thrill through Dean, urging him deeper into the moment. These sounds, these quiet declarations of your pleasure, seemed to fuel him, intensifying the already palpable desire that hung heavy between you both.

Dean’s movements became gradually more purposeful, driven by the reactions he elicited from you. His kisses wandered with a deliberate slowness, tracing fiery paths down your body, pausing at your belly before venturing lower, his breath hot against your skin. Each touch was calculated to draw out the fullest depth of your pleasure, his ears attuned to every shift in your breathing, every quiet sigh and moan that escaped your lips.

As Dean’s hands moved to the waistband of your pajama pants and panties, his touch remained gentle, his eyes never leaving yours. He watched you intently for any sign of hesitation, his movements slow, giving you time to adjust or stop him.

With a careful touch, he began to pull the fabric down, his fingers grazing your skin lightly, tracing the lines of your hips as he went. The soft material slid over your legs, leaving you exposed under his attentive gaze, the air cool against your heated skin. His eyes, usually so full of confidence and playfulness, now carried a weight of reverence and awe, seeing you so open, so vulnerable before him.

You lifted slightly, aiding him as he carefully removed your pajama pants and panties, setting them aside. Once you were bare, Dean paused, his eyes sweeping over you, taking in every detail. His breath hitched slightly, a testament to the depth of his desire.

As Dean noticed your blush deepen, and your thighs instinctively press together in a mixture of nervousness and modesty, his gaze softened. The intensity of his desire was tempered by his respect for your comfort, and he sat back, giving you a little space to adjust.

Recognizing your heightened vulnerability, Dean decided to lessen the disparity between you. He reached down to unbutton his flannel, sliding it off his shoulders with deliberate, slow movements that held your gaze. He then pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his own body to you. His chest was bathed in the same silver moonlight that illuminated you, casting shadows across the muscles and scars that marked his skin—a map of his own vulnerabilities and past.

The sight of him, so open and unguarded, seemed to bridge the gap of vulnerability between you. His willingness to share in the exposure helped ease the tension in your body, seeing him as not just a partner in this moment but also as someone equally open and at risk.

He leaned in again, this time slower, his movements mirroring the care he’d shown all night. His hand reached for yours, fingers intertwining as he gently squeezed.

His chest now nearly touching yours, Dean kept his gaze locked with yours, ensuring you were comfortable as he moved closer. “Only go as far as you want”, he whispered, his breath mingling with yours, each word laced with affection and an earnest desire to keep you at ease.

You felt a wave of affection and trust surge through you at his reassurance, your earlier apprehension melting away under his understanding gaze. With a small nod, you squeezed his hand back, signaling him to continue.

Dean leaned in to kiss you again, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, loving kiss.

When Dean paused, his lips just a breath away from yours, his hand lingering at his belt as he looked at you with a mix of desire and concern. He was already achingly hard, his body more than ready, but his mind was clearly racing, considering everything and wanting to be sure.

As Dean looked around the room, his zipper already open, a flash of concern crossed his features. He was lost in thought for a moment, weighing the importance of protection against the growing heat of desire surging between you.

Sensing his hesitation, you took a deep breath, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. “Dean”, you murmured softly, catching his attention. “I’m on birth control, and… well, since I’m a… well, I’m pretty sure I’m not carrying anything”. You offered a reassuring smile, hoping to alleviate any lingering worries he had.

His eyes locked onto yours, and the concern in his gaze shifted to relief. “You’re sure?”, he asked, his voice low and earnest, searching for any trace of doubt.

“Yes, I’m sure”.

Dean, reassured by your conviction, proceeded to shed the last of his inhibitions along with his jeans and boxers. As he sat before you on his knees, fully exposed, the sight of his erection made your breath catch in your throat. The reality of the moment, the intimacy of what was about to transpire, hit you deeply. You had never seen him—or anyone—in this state, and the intensity of his vulnerability mixed with his obvious desire sent a thrill of anticipation through you.

As you bit your lip, watching him, Dean’s eyes followed your gaze, landing on his own body before returning to meet yours. He looked at you questioningly for a moment, a hint of vulnerability flickering across his face as he gauged your reaction. But then, seeing you so affected, yet composed, seemed to bolster his confidence.

Slowly, he reached out, his fingers intertwining with yours, offering you a steadying anchor as you both leaned into the deep trust you shared.

He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles before leaning in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was tender and deliberate. His hands moved to trace the contours of your body with a lightness that spoke of reverence, each touch careful and unhurried.

As he sat back again, his eyes never left yours. He gently placed his hands on your knees, his touch light but clear in its guidance. With a soft, encouraging nod, he coaxed you to open your legs, making room for him to come closer.

Dean moved between your legs, positioning himself with a tenderness that only deepened the trust you felt in this moment. His eyes held yours steadily, conveying both warmth and reassurance as he took in the quiet anticipation on your face. The flutter of nerves mixed with excitement quickened your heartbeat, each pulse a reminder of the profound intimacy that was unfolding between you.

Gently, Dean leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, grounding you in his presence. His hands, warm and steady, traced along your sides, sending a trail of goosebumps across your skin as he familiarized himself with each curve and contour.

As he drew closer, he paused again, his gaze searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

“If at any point you need to stop, just tell me”, he murmured, his words full of care.

You just nodded.

Dean gently grasped the base of his erection, his touch both tentative and assured as he aligned himself between your legs. As he looked back at you, his voice was soft, tinged with a hint of concern. “This might hurt a little. Hold onto me”, he mumbled, his breath warm against your skin.

You felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement ripple through you, your hands instinctively finding their way to his shoulders. Biting your lip, you offered him a reassuring smile, your fingers gently squeezing his arms in response. “I’m okay, Dean”, you whispered, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. “Just take it slow”.

Dean nodded, his movements deliberate as he began to ease himself in.

Dean’s movements were slow and considerate as he gently pushed forward, his gaze initially fixed on the union of your bodies to ensure everything was right. Sensing your intake of breath and the soft whimper that escaped your lips, his eyes immediately lifted to meet yours, full of concern and empathy.

Your reaction, the slight tightening of your fingers on his shoulders, your nails pressing into his skin, didn’t go unnoticed. It was a silent communication of the mix of pain and the overwhelming rush of new sensations you were experiencing. Dean paused, holding still, allowing you time to adjust to him. His voice was soft, soothing. “Hey, look at me”, he murmured, encouraging you to focus on his eyes, seeking to provide a distraction and a point of comfort.

“I’m right here with you”, Dean continued, his tone tender. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”. His hands moved from your hips to gently cradle your face, thumb softly stroking your cheek, a gesture meant to reassure and calm you.

You nodded, your breaths coming in heavy bursts as you adjusted to the sensation. The discomfort was sharp but fleeting, and you found your voice, albeit shaky, whispering against his ear, “Just keep going”. You wanted to move past the initial pain, to find the connection that awaited beyond this threshold.

Dean responded with a gentle nod, his expression mingling concern with deep care. He kissed your forehead softly and with a slow, steady breath, he eased forward further, his voice a low murmur near your ear. “There we go”, he said soothingly, exactly as he felt the resistance give way, the moment marking your transition fully into this new intimacy.

The sensation was intense, and you couldn’t help but cling to him, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as a quiet cry escaped you, muffled against his skin. Dean held you close, pausing again to give you a moment, his body a steady presence against the wave of emotions and physical sensations flooding through you.

As you both held this deeply intimate pause, Dean’s steady breaths against your ear helped to ground you, his presence a reassuring comfort. “You’re doing great”, he reassured, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke.

“Ready to keep going?”, he whispered softly, noticing the subtle affirmations in your body language that you were adjusting, becoming more comfortable with the new intimacy. He held you close, your body slightly elevated from the mattress in his arms, creating a space that felt both protective and intensely personal.

His control was palpable, every muscle tensed to maintain the slow, careful pace that he knew was necessary. He could feel the overwhelming sensation caused by your tightness around him, and it took every ounce of his focus to hold back, to move at a pace that ensured your comfort over his own rapidly building need.

You nodded in response to his question, the warmth of your breath tickling his neck. “Yes, keep going”, you murmured back, your voice a mix of nervous excitement and growing trust. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gripping him slightly as a signal of your readiness to continue.

Dean carefully eased you back down onto the mattress. As he laid you down, his lips found yours in a tender, deep kiss, an unspoken acknowledgment of the intensity of the moment. The kiss served not only as a connection but also as a gentle silencer, intuitively understanding that your reactions might grow louder with the increasing depth of sensation.

As his lips pressed firmly against yours, he began to slowly pull back, withdrawing just a few inches, the movement smooth to keep the experience as gentle as possible. The mix of his slight withdrawal and immediate return drew a muffled sound from you against his lips, a sound that was part pleasure, part overwhelmed response to the new depths of intimacy you were exploring together.

You kept your hands on his biceps, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingertips as he moved against you, each gentle thrust creating a rhythm that resonated deep within. His hips met yours with a soft pressure, the connection eliciting a wave of warmth and pleasure that coursed through your body. The room filled with soft, wet noises—Dean’s quiet grunts of effort mixed with your little whimpers of pleasure, a symphony of intimacy that deepened the moment.

As Dean continued, his breathing grew heavier, a testament to the depth of his effort and arousal. After several more gentle thrusts, his head dropped to rest against your collarbone, his breaths hot and quick against your skin. The physical intensity of the moment was mirrored in the emotional connection that pulsed between you, binding you closer with each shared breath.

Beneath him, you still felt a tension within your body, a mix of nervous excitement and the lingering edges of discomfort as you adjusted to the new sensations. Despite the intimacy and your trust in Dean, your body’s response was still cautious, a natural reaction to your first experience.

Sensing your tension, Dean’s voice came softly, his lips moving against your skin as he spoke, “Tell me how it feels".

"It’s… intense", you breathed out, your voice barely more than a whisper, yet carrying the weight of the new sensations and emotions coursing through you. Your fingers instinctively tightened around his neck, nails grazing his skin as if grounding yourself in the moment. Dean felt the press of your touch, his body responding with a shiver that mirrored his own restraint, his focus still unwaveringly on you.

Hearing your response, Dean lifted his head slightly, brushing his lips softly along your neck, each kiss deliberate, gentle. “You’re doing so good”, he murmured against your skin, his voice a blend of pride and tenderness. His hands moved along your sides, his touch soothing and reverent, as if each motion was meant to calm and encourage you.

Your heart pounded with every word, every gentle caress of his lips against your neck. The initial tension in your body began to dissolve, bit by bit, replaced by a warmth that radiated outward, filling the space between you.

With a renewed sense of calm, you found yourself moving with him, adjusting to his rhythm, feeling the discomfort gradually fade and transform. The pleasure, at first subtle, grew slowly, each gentle thrust amplifying the connection that was building between you both.

“Just like that”, he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with both arousal and affection. “We’ll go as slow as you need”.

As Dean sensed your growing comfort and readiness, he carefully adjusted his position, his movements both mindful and precise. He shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts in a way that deepened the connection. His gaze remained locked with yours, watching for any reaction, any sign to guide him.

Then, with a gentle but firm movement, he found a new angle that touched you in a way that sent a sharp, intense wave of pleasure coursing through you. As he hit your G-spot, the sensation was overwhelming, like nothing you had ever felt before. It was a revelation, a rush of intense pleasure that took your breath away.

Instinctively, you pressed your mouth against his shoulder, your lips pressing tight to muffle the loud moans that erupted from you. Your body responded with an involuntary shudder, a climax that rolled over you unexpectedly from just that single, perfectly-angled thrust. Your fingers dug into his shoulder, gripping him tightly as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and momentarily overwhelmed.

Dean held you close, his arms wrapping around you as he felt the tension surge through your body. He stilled his movements, allowing you to ride out the waves of your climax, his lips pressing tender kisses onto your hair. “That’s it, just let go”, he murmured, his voice a soothing balm as he supported you through the intensity of your reaction.

Dean held you tightly, feeling your body shivering beneath him as you clung to him in the aftermath of your climax. The intensity of your response left him equally overwhelmed, his body instinctively reacting to every subtle movement of yours. He tried to remain still, to give you a moment to recover, but the rhythmic clenching around him made it increasingly difficult to maintain control.

Feeling you continue to tighten around him, Dean’s resolve wavered. With a deep, ragged breath, he allowed himself to move once more, his hips pushing gently but firmly deeper into you.

As he moved, his face buried in the crook of your neck, where your pulse beat wildly against his lips. His body tensed in anticipation.

Then, with a deep groan that vibrated against your skin, Dean surrendered to the overwhelming sensation. He spilled into you, hot and warm, his climax washing over him in powerful waves that mirrored your own intensity. As he released, his body shuddered, his grip on you tightening.

After a few long moments, as the waves of his climax ebbed, Dean’s movements slowed, finally coming to a stop. He remained inside you, his body heavy with exhaustion but gentle in its weight. His breathing slowed, and he lifted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes soft and filled with a mix of wonder and deep affection.

Dean kissed you tenderly, a kiss that spoke of gratitude and deep connection. “Are you okay?”, he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His concern was evident, always attentive to your well-being, ensuring that the experience had been as profound for you as it had been for him.

You nodded, still catching your breath, a smile spreading across your face as you wrapped your arms around him. “I’m more than okay”, you assured him, your voice soft and filled with a warmth that echoed the deep bond you both had just deepened.

Dean’s cheeks colored with a faint blush as he realized the practicalities of your intimacy. “Do you have a towel or something?”, he asked, slightly awkward as he sat back, his movements gentle to maintain the intimacy and care of the moment.

You bit your lip, a little flustered, and reached blindly for the towel you had used earlier to dry your hair, which was now beside your bed. Handing it to him, you were still catching your breath, not entirely sure of his intentions but trusting him to handle the situation with the same care he had shown throughout your time together.

As Dean took the towel from you, he carefully began to withdraw, his movements slow and considerate. The moment he pulled away, you felt a warm spill between your thighs. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry”, you breathed out, a rush of embarrassment flooding you as you instinctively hid your face under your arm.

Dean immediately softened, his own embarrassment mingling with a gentle understanding. He leaned over, his hand lifting your arm away from your face. “Hey, no, don’t be sorry”, he reassured you softly, his voice tender. “It’s okay, it’s all part of it”. His smile was kind, meant to ease your discomfort as he gently wiped the towel across both of you, careful not to make the situation feel any more awkward.

“This is normal, okay?”. Dean continued, his tone soothing as he made sure to clean up carefully. “Nothing to be embarrassed about”.

Dean chuckled softly, the sound light and warm. “You just might want to change your sheets tomorrow”, he teased, giving you a playful grin. You felt a mix of curiosity and bashfulness, biting your lip as you sat up slightly, trying to see what he was talking about. But before you could fully assess the situation, Dean tugged you back down beside him, flopping onto the bed and pulling you right along with him.

He wrapped his arm around you, anchoring you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your shoulder as he settled beside you. It was a distraction in the best way, grounding you in the warmth of his presence rather than the small embarrassments of the moment. His hand found yours, fingers interlacing as he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“There”, he murmured with a contented sigh, as if he’d achieved some small victory by pulling you back into his embrace. “Nothing else matters right now. Just you, me, and a very good night’s sleep”.

Your cheeks burned with a blush that didn’t seem to fade, the warmth of your face pressed against Dean’s bare chest as you tried to hide your flustered state. The feel of your breath, warm and quick against his skin, brought a smile to Dean’s lips, his heart swelling with affection for the endearing vulnerability you displayed.

He wrapped his other arm around you, pulling you even closer, if that were possible. The gesture was protective, affectionate, and filled with the silent promise of his care. “You don’t have to hide”, he whispered, his voice low and soothing. “I love seeing you like this—just being real and you”.

Dean’s fingers gently tilted your chin, encouraging you to look up at him. As your eyes met his, there was an undeniable tenderness in his gaze, a depth of feeling that seemed to pull you even deeper into his orbit. He adored these moments with you, the quiet intimacy that spoke louder than any grand gesture. The simplicity of the moment—the softness of your expression, the sincerity in your eyes—made him fall for you even more.

“You know”, he continued, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek, “every time you blush like that, I fall a little harder”. His tone was teasing, but the emotion behind it was earnest, filled with the kind of affection that could only grow from truly knowing and cherishing someone.

Your breath hitched at his words, heart racing as the weight of his affection settled over you. Before you could respond, Dean leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. The touch was soft, unhurried, filled with a tenderness that said everything he hadn't put into words. His hand cradled your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he poured his feelings into the kiss—gentle, reverent, and filled with a depth of emotion that made you feel cherished beyond measure.

The kiss deepened slightly, a quiet urgency within the soft, slow rhythm of his lips against yours. It wasn’t about passion or need, but rather a quiet, profound connection, a way to show you how much you meant to him in a language beyond words. His fingers tangled in your hair, holding you close as he pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting against yours, his breaths warm against your face.

When he finally drew back, his eyes met yours, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I think I’m in trouble with you”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, but his gaze held that same, unwavering sincerity.

End of the Flashback

Dean straightened slightly, clearing his throat as he took in a deep breath, trying to steady himself as the memory washed over him. The intensity of the recollection left him feeling vulnerable, a warmth spreading through him that he hadn’t anticipated. He could feel his body’s response, a testament to the lingering effect you had on him, even after all these years. Across the room, he caught sight of you, your face rare and completely flushed, eyes momentarily distant, lost in the same memory.

When your gazes met, it was as if time rewound, pulling both of you back to that quiet night filled with whispered promises and shared vulnerability.

Dean gave you a small, tentative smile, his usual bravado softened, replaced by something quieter, more real. The air between you was charged, almost as if the memory itself had bridged the gap of time. It was more than just nostalgia; it was a reminder of the connection you shared, one that neither of you had ever truly let go.

You cleared your throat, hoping to steady yourself as you handed Sam another book, though your mind was still caught in the haze of that shared memory. As you turned, you suddenly felt Dean’s presence closer than before, his frame leaning over you, his arm brushing lightly against yours. The scent of his familiar cologne filled the air, mixing with the worn leather and faint vanilla notes you’d always associated with him. The proximity, the warmth radiating from him, sent a shiver down your spine, your pulse quickening despite your best efforts to keep calm.

“Guess some memories don’t fade, huh?”, he murmured, his voice low, just for you, the words carrying a weight that made your breath hitch. The intimacy of his tone, paired with the way he looked at you, his gaze both questioning and intense, made it clear he felt it too—the pull, the lingering spark that neither time nor distance had managed to extinguish.

You managed a soft smile, feeling your cheeks flush even more under his gaze. “Seems like they have a way of sticking around”, you replied, your voice barely a whisper, but the words held an edge of truth that you both understood.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.��� 

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Part 4

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[usagii-bun]

sunset berry tea. zhongli x reader

✦....summary: in which zhongli tries out a new tea shop in liyue.

✦.....warnings: none!

✦.....word count: 1.1k

The small tea shop nestled along the busy streets of Liyue had quickly become a haven for its patrons. To Zhongli, however, it had become something more—a quiet retreat from the responsibilities and the endless history of the city he once governed. He had first noticed the shop a few weeks ago, its subtle charm standing out among the bustling market stalls. Today, curiosity led him inside.

The chime above the door tinkled softly, and you glanced up from the counter where you were brewing tea, your hands steady and practiced. Your eyes caught sight of a tall man with sharp amber eyes and an air of calm about him, his expression serene as he scanned the room.

"Welcome," you greeted with a warm smile. "What can I get for you today?"

Zhongli approached the counter, his gaze briefly flicking to the menu before resting on you. "It is a warm day today. Perhaps you could recommend something refreshing?"

You chuckled softly, the sound light and pleasant. "I’ve got just the thing. I’d recommend our Sunset Berry Tea. It’s fruity and pleasantly sour, and the cold brew is perfect for this weather."

"That sounds perfect," Zhongli replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You turned to prepare the drink, pouring the mixture of berries and herbs with careful precision. As you worked, Zhongli’s gaze wandered over the tea shop’s décor—soft Sumeru influences interwoven with Liyue’s aesthetic. It was clear this was more than just a shop to you; it was a piece of your home, brought to the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor.

When you returned with the tea, Zhongli accepted it graciously. He took a sip, his eyes closing briefly as the cool, refreshing flavor washed over him.

“This is exceptional,” he praised, setting the cup down gently. “A drink perfectly suited for dispelling the heat.”

You grinned, a sense of pride blooming in your chest. "Thank you. I learned everything from my father. He ran a tea business in Sumeru, but I decided to bring a piece of that here to Liyue. I’ve always admired the culture and wanted to start fresh."

Zhongli listened attentively as you spoke, your passion evident in the way your eyes lit up with each word. You rambled on about the tea, your father’s craft, and how you had come to love the traditions of Liyue. What began as a simple conversation became a habit—a ritual of sorts. Zhongli would come by the tea shop regularly, each time eager to try a new brew and to hear you speak about your life and the things that fascinated you.

In turn, he shared his own stories—little pieces of Liyue’s vast history and its rich culture. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized how much he enjoyed your company. There was a warmth in the way you spoke, a sincerity that made him feel more human—less like the ex-Archon burdened by millennia of memories.

Over time, he couldn’t help but notice how your hair sometimes fell in different styles, how you tried new shades of lipstick that complemented your features. He would feel a faint flutter in his chest whenever your eyes met his or when you smiled at him in that gentle, unassuming way.

As the Lantern Rite approached, the city buzzed with excitement, the streets filling with vibrant colors, lanterns hanging from every corner. One afternoon, as Zhongli was finishing his tea, he hesitated, the words lingering on his lips before he spoke.

“The Lantern Rite is always a magnificent occasion,” he said, his voice calm as always. “I was wondering if you would care to accompany me to the festival? It would be an honor to share the evening with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding your cheeks. You hadn’t expected him to ask, but the thought of spending the festival with Zhongli made your chest tighten with excitement. “I’d love to,” you replied softly, your smile bright.

---

That evening, the streets of Liyue were filled with the soft glow of lanterns. The sky was painted with hues of gold and crimson as the sun began to set, casting a magical light over the harbor. You and Zhongli strolled through the festival together, the air buzzing with the sounds of music and laughter. Street vendors lined the roads, offering a myriad of treats and delicacies.

“Have you ever tried these?” Zhongli asked, gesturing toward a stall selling golden shrimp balls. You shook your head, and he bought a pair, handing one to you. The crisp exterior gave way to a warm, savory filling, and you smiled as you tasted the delightful combination of flavors.

As you walked, you talked about everything and nothing at all—the culture of Liyue, the beauty of the lanterns, and the stories that had been passed down for generations. Zhongli’s deep, soothing voice mixed with the sounds of the festival, creating a comforting backdrop to your evening.

There was an ease between the two of you, a natural connection that neither of you could deny. And as the sky darkened, the first fireworks began to burst above, painting the night with brilliant colors. You both paused to watch, the lanterns floating up into the sky like stars.

Zhongli turned to you then, his gaze soft and warm. “May I ask you something?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering in anticipation. “Of course.”

“There’s something I’ve been feeling… recently,” he began, his amber eyes holding yours. “Whenever I’m with you, I feel at ease. I find myself wanting to be around you more often, and I believe…” He paused, his expression growing tender. “I believe I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

Your breath caught, and you felt a flush rise to your cheeks. “I… I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice quiet.

Zhongli took a step closer, the space between you shrinking. “Would it be all right if I kissed you?”

His question hung in the air, the gentle hum of the festival fading as your heart raced in your chest. You gave a small nod, your voice failing you.

With a soft smile, Zhongli leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most tender kiss. The fireworks above crackled and burst into brilliant colors, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his lips against yours, the way your heart seemed to soar with every second.

When he pulled away, his thumb brushed your cheek, his expression soft and affectionate. “You have brought a light into my life,” he murmured, his voice like velvet. “One I did not expect to find.”

Your heart swelled, a smile tugging at your lips. “I could say the same about you.”

Hand in hand, you continued to watch the fireworks, your hearts intertwined beneath the glowing lanterns of Liyue.

author's note: this is just a little warm up writing for me as i have not written in a while, next work is al haitham x fem reader (professor x student) but reader is also a cam girl, so if anyone is interesting for that fanfic do let me know and I'll add ya to the tag list <3