#this is what i get for not paying attention at all this year

[hairmetal666]

Steve wins the bat plush at a fair when he's seven. He doesn't care about bats, but it's the prize for making all five baskets in the basketball game, so he gets the little bat. Its eyes are a little crooked and one wing is slightly smaller than the other, but it being lopsided sort of makes it cuter.

He and his dad, they're supposed to be going on rides now, but his dad's pager keeps going off. He puts Steve next to a funnel cake stand, tells him not to move, and goes in search of a pay phone. Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve is bored under the flashing lights and tinkling music. He wants to play not sit and wait.

Eventually, he drifts back towards the midway, watches the people rushing by, searches for a sign of his dad's return. His attention is caught by another boy at the basketball booth. He has to be about Steve's age, with a mop of dark curls on top of his head and a jean jacket that's slightly too big, sleeves flopping over his hands as he lines up his shots.

This boy, he's terrible at basketball. Every shot is too high or too short or goes wide, but he's trying. Even from this distance, Steve can see how hard he's trying. He uses up his five balls, fishes into his jacket pocket for more money, and gets five more.

He misses every shot. This time, when he goes back for more money, he comes up empty. Steve thinks he sees his lip shaking.

A man, one in a leather jacket and boots that Steve thinks look mean, comes up to the boy, drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. He's too far away to hear the conversation, assumes the boy asks to play again and the man's response is a shaken head and a tight smile. They walk away from the games, right towards Steve, who slinks back to the side of the midway, not wanting to be caught staring.

"What was it you wanted? That stupid bat? Just another piece of trash you wanna bring in my house." Steve hears as they pass.

The boy nods, but keeps his eyes down and to the side.

He feels bad then. Felt bad before, but now he looks at his own bat, at its funny eyes and poorly attached wings, and wishes he could hand it over to the boy who really wants it. Steve almost does, then, makes to go after them, but his dad appears, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder and saying, "ready to hit those rides?" And he knows the opportunity is gone, knows his dad will say it's too soft, not what men do.

Steve manages to lose himself for a while in the swirling lights and funhouse music and carnival rides, forget about the little bat in his back pocket and the boy who wanted one so desperately. But then his dad's pager goes off some more, he goes back to the pay phone, and Steve ducks into the low brick building that houses the bathrooms.

His eyes immediately land on the same boy from the basketball game. His eyes are red, face damp, obviously from tears, and Steve just--

"Here." He shoves the bat into the boy's chest.

For a second, the brownest eyes Steve's ever seen widen at him, before narrowing in a harsh glare, the boy's teeth barred.

"Why?" He snarls.

Steve thinks he may regret every choice that led him to this but he says, he says, "Because I want you to have it."

The boy blinks a few times, hand reaching out to gently pinch the bat's smallest wing. "You sure?"

Steve nods and the bat is slowly withdrawn from his grasp.

"No takesies-backsies?"

"It's yours."

The boy looks at the bat in awe, and Steve says, "see? It already looks happier with you."

The boy's beaming smile is cut-off by a voice calling from the door, "you in there,? I ain't got time to be waiting for your boohooing."

"Coming!" The boy carefully tucks the bat into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes big and glistening and happy, before he disappears out the door.

---

13 years later, give or take a few months, and Steve stands in the cracked shell of a bisected trailer, rummaging through what remains of a life well-lived, searching for anything whole. He's already found a few undamaged mugs and clean hats, but this room--it took a lot of damage. The brunt of it, really. Some sick sort of joke, after everything.

It's mostly rubble in here, scraps of fabric; slivers of notebook paper, magazine, poster; crumbled shards of vinyl and cassette plastic. A few times he comes across the disembodied limb of one of those dnd figures, and something weird happens to his throat.

In the far corner there's half of a dresser collapsed into itself, and he shuffles through the debris to see what he can find. There's something, soft and black, just the edge of it, peaking out from under half of a drawer face. He pulls it out, careful as can be and it's--it's a plush bat. It's a little dirty, but unharmed, though its eyes are a little wonky, and one wing is smaller than the other.

He holds it and he stares and he has to brace himself against the wall. It can't be--it's not the same one--but he remembers those big brown eyes and the curls and--

"Harrington," a warm, rich voice calls from what's left of the hallway. "You get lost in there?"

Eddie shuffles in, slow, careful with his crutches. And it--it took so long, months and months of convalesce and physical therapy, still physical therapy, but he's here. He's alive. He's perfect. And the something blooming between them, it's not spoken yet, but it's there, growing, and now, now--

"Oh my god, you found Lilith! I thought she was toast."

"Lilith?" He's still cradling the little lopsided bat in his hands, but moves closer to hand it over to Eddie.

"Yes, Lilith." Eddie takes the bat, presses it to his chest. "The first boy I ever loved gave her to me."

His heart turns over in his chest and when he swallows his throat clicks. Eddie doesn't notice, he's smiling softly at the bat, at Lilith, but then, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"First boy you ever loved?" He says. He thinks he sounds normal.

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even softer. "Yeah. Roan County Fair, years ago. Tried to win her, but--" he clicks his tongue--"never had great hand-eye coordination. And then this kid just gave her to me out of nowhere. I used to think I was going to marry him."

"And now?"

Eddie laughs. "I grew up, Steve."

And for a second, he doesn't know what to say, but then, "I was right then, huh? That she'd be happier with you."

He stares at Steve, those same big brown eyes, wide and glistening. "Steve that was--Steve?" Eddie presses a hand over his mouth, overcome, before launching himself into Steve's arms. The crutches clatter to the floor, but Steve has him, will always have him, no matter what.

"I can't believe you kept her," Steve whispers.

"God, I carry her everywhere. She's Corroded Coffin's mascot, and you--Steve, I can't believe that was you."

"Surprise," he bumps Eddie's forehead with his.

They hold each other in the center of the destruction, but none of that matters right now, not when it feels like every moment since they very first met as children was leading them to this.

From the other half of the trailer, they hear footsteps, chattering, Wayne and Robin and Dustin, but Steve wants this to last a little longer.

"So, marriage...that still off the table?"

Eddie laughs softly, nuzzles his face against Steve's neck. "Are you kidding, sweetheart? No way I'm letting you go."

#what if eddie uses the bat as a pocket square at their wedding what then #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #friends to lovers #childhood first meeting #post-canon #bat plush #carnival #carnival games #steve gives eddie a plush #eddie falls in love immediately #childhood crush #all the dads suck

[madelynraemunson]

NEED…MORE…EX-HUSBAND!EDDIE…I AM FERAL AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH PLEASE BLESS US MORE I’M BEGGING

IT’S ANGST O’CLOCK!!!

𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠)

ex husband! eddie x fem!reader

“all that still matters is ‘love ever after’ — after the life we’ve been through” — life after you // daughtry

WC: ~950 words

3AM. The witching hour.

The air smells of twilight musk and marinating dew. It's pitch black all around you, the nearest gas station being an agonizing 1.3 miles away. You're also 10 miles from Hawkins, pulled over in nothing but platform heels, a black mini dress, and expired pepper spray in your purse. To make matters worse, the only friends up who seem to be up at this hour are hungry bears and obnoxious, chirping crickets. And skinwalkers if you're where you think you are.

A horrible ending to a girls night out. Just what you needed.

Alone and afraid, you decide to call the number one person on speed dial, whose gradual distaste towards you renders itself very evident from the moment he answers the phone.

"What?! I'm trying to sleep."

"Eds." you whimper into the phone. "I need you."

There's a long pause in response to your petrified sobs, followed by the clicking noise of a phone keyboard before you hear cursing and the frantic ruffling of sheets.

"I’ll be there."

"Well?"

You watch as Eddie crinkles his forehead in concentration, examining your car while his soot-tainted hands explore every crevice of your hood. Routine maintenance has never been as issue because you've always had a personal mechanic at your feet. But since the divorce, you've gotten pretty bad about it. Otherwise, the you and Eddie wouldn't be stuck in this situation. Obviously.

"Weeelp." Eddie sighs, stretching out every bit of the syllable. He slams the hood shut. "She's just about blown out. You're lucky that thing didn't overheat too much with you in it."

You've prided yourself in not needing a man to change your tires, wiper fluid, OR oil nowadays. But in the midst of your journey towards self love and independence, you somehow forgot that your car could also overheat.

"Oh..”

You try not to watch intently as Eddie cleans his hands off with his hanky, the one he keeps neatly tucked into the back pocket of his flattering dark, denim jeans. Your eyes then trail towards his leather jacket, which housed his broad shoulders and delicious waist so nicely, you would've thought it had been tailored just for him. And you could just about fall right into him when he angles his torso towards you, his sculpted jawline glistening in the moonlight — but nearly not as glistening as those gorgeous chocolate eyes, the ones he used to his advantage during your marriage to get you to forgive him for whatever mistake he seemed to make that week. Before you could fawn any further, Eddie snaps you back to reality.

"When was the last time you put some coolant in this thing?"

"Some what?"

"You keep Prestone at the house?" Eddie pesters. "Antifreeze? Peak?"

Cheeks reddening, you shake your head. "No.”

"You get this thing examined often?"

“Not unless you do it," is what you shamefully admit. “For the most part…”

Eddie's face scrunches out of frustration. He knew this would happen.

"God, I hate when you do shit like this," he snaps. "For all I know your engine light could've been on for weeks."

"But it wasn't." you mutter softly. You're already scared. This is the last thing you need.

"You know your car in particular needs to be serviced every half year?" Eddie mutters. "Oil changes, tire rotations. Your break pads have also seen better days. Which is concerning."

"Ok.”

"And how many times do I have to say you gotta pay attention to this fucking radiator?!" Eddie hisses, slapping at the hood again with his open palm. You shudder at the loud *THUNK* noise that echoes across the woods. "We wouldn't be out here in 3AM if you had just taken proactive measures.”

"Stop YELLING at me!" you whine, a piece of your inner child spewing outwards to combat Eddie's belligerent word vomit.

"I'm not yelling." Eddie firmly insists.

He turns his back to you and starts towards your car again.

"Yes, you are, you always do." you croak miserably, balling your fists up in frustration. “You always do Eddie, and I'm sick of it! You always want to be right, and you always kick me when I'm already down to-"

“Okay, okay, okay." Eddie hushes you. He runs a frantic hand through his hair. "Agh, fuck, okay — I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with guilty, glimmering eyes as you shift your body away from him. Guarded, tense. Closing up all access of you towards him because he lost those rights a long time ago. Muttering to himself now, Eddie scrapes at the pebbles beneath his feet, fiddling with the chain of his wallet before he dares to speak to you again.

"I just worry about you a lot."

You peer back over at him. "Deadass?"

He snorts. "Well yeah."

With your permission Eddie stalks closer to you.

"I don't want to wake up to a phone call talking about my wife's car bursting into flames — with her inside." He rolls his eyes. “All because she hasn't been maintaining her shit.”

"I have been," you fib just a bit, though most of it rings true. just forgot to iron out some little details."

Eddie relaxes his shoulders.

"I know," he surrenders. “I guess there's a part of me that secretly hopes you'll still need me somehow. Some way, or another."

"I'll always need your presence," you reassure him.

Your ex husband softens up. He always thought that during your separation you had found another Superman to save the day. Some other handsome devil to fix your car and maintain all the leaky faucets inside your once shared home. But as you've always insisted, nobody has your back like Eddie. Your very own George Reeves. At your disposal for you and you only.

He suddenly wraps his arms around you, and as you predicted you ease right into him, the comfort and familiarity of Eddie melting away any ounce of hostility you guys have ever harbored against each other. You both have your days, but the love you two have for each other has always remained the same. Just changed form, is all.

"I'm glad you're okay," is all he says.

'I'm glad you're here," you sniff. "Always playing hero, per usual..."

"Well for you, always."

He plants a gentle kiss on top of your forehead as you two sway around in unison. You hum to showcase your endearment.

And he'd do it again.

———

🏷️ tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe 🫶🏼✨ thank you guys for reading :)

@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths

#maddy’s mailbox ✨ #blurb #eddie munson blurb #ex husband!eddie munson #Eddie munson x reader #ex husband!eddie x reader #ex husband!eddie munson x reader

[seat-safety-switch]

Have you ever started a project, thinking it was going to be a quick one-hour thing, only to have it expand into several weeks of complete misery? You haven't? Boys, get over here. We found us one of them replicants wearing a human face. Put them in the vat with the others.

Now that all the unpleasantness is over, we can dish about how awful our hobbies are. I've always been drawn to the small, intricate jobs in life. Fiddly stuff, things where you have to really be paying attention. Being awake enough to notice a strange sound, or a joint that doesn't quite go together right, is the only way to avoid an intractable crisis later. I think it's because I derive a lot of pleasure when it all falls into place and the damn thing works.

A couple years ago, I told a friend that I would really love to build a ship in a bottle. All that precision really appealed to me. Feeding parts one at a time through a tiny neck and assembling this beautiful work, made even more beautiful by forcing it to be pointlessly difficult.

He responded by telling me that nobody actually does it that way. What you do is you build the ship outside of the bottle, with the sail wrapped around it, and then you push it into the neck and use a piece of string to pop the sail back up once it's fully in there. I got really angry. So angry that I left the room, drove to the hospital, and "borrowed" one of their precision microsurgery robots for two rage-spittle-covered days straight to assemble a replica of the Emma Maersk inside a 500mL 7-Up bottle, but by the time I spitefully showed it to him he had completely forgotten about our conversation.

So, if you're like me and trying to stretch out a hobby to the point where it becomes no longer enjoyable, don't stop. Evaluate your motivations, though. Find a reason to do it out of spite. That'll keep you warm on the coldest nights of wondering what exact part in this billions-of-parts arrangement has decided to conk out long before you were even involved. And if you know a wealthy shipping magnate who wants to commission a bunch of weird-looking little boats inside pop bottles, you know where I am. Unless you're a replicant. That'll cost extra.

[wafflefries13]

Go For It, Jamil!

Summary: Scarabia hears their Vice-House Warden has a crush and are a little too enthusiastic to help out.

AN: I really like the idea that the dorm mob loves their wardens and vice wardens. It makes me think of the tsum event where all of Savanaclaw was in tears because they thought Leona got turned into a little burrito plush, lol.

I got Omar and Babkak from the Aladdin Broadway musical. There's also a Kassim there but I thought it sounded too close to Kalim so just kept it to the two of them.

Warnings: Pining. Apparently I'm really into that.

Spring had come to Night Raven College. With the blossoming trees, chirping birds, and returning sunshine, one thing everyone could count on was Kalim’s annual Welcome Spring party. Of course, he also had a Welcome Autumn, Welcome Winter, Welcome Summer, Farewell End-of-School-Year, Beginning of School, Halloween, New Year's Eve and Day, basically anything party. The difference here was that there were generally more flowers. 

“And we can have the cherry blossom trees around the entrance of the courtyard!” Kalim was saying. Jamil dutifully followed behind him by a few steps, taking down notes for the numerous things they would need to order. “That way when the wind blows the petals will swirl everywhere and it will be super pretty!” 

“MmHmm,” Jamil muttered, only halfway paying attention. 

“And I was thinking the food should be fruit-themed. Blueberries, strawberries, plums, apricots, rhubarb - is rhubarb a fruit? It’s sweet but it’s like celery, right? Cause it grows in the ground in a stalk?” 

“It’s a vegetable.” 

“Oh, and pastels! I can get bolts of silk and we can have them hanging from the ceiling in panels and string beads between everything.”

“Sure.”  

“And it’ll be the perfect backdrop when you confess to (Y/N)!” 

Jamil nearly tripped over his own feet. Both of them froze at the sound of a shattering pot. Looking up, Jamil felt dread build in his stomach as a wide-eyed first-year stared at the two of them, obviously having overheard Kalim’s (obviously totally ridiculous) announcement. There was a broken flower pot at his feet. 

“I-Uh-” The first-year stuttered. “Sorry, I’ll get a broom.” He dashed off like his feet were on fire. 

Jamil sighed. The last thing he needed right now were rumors swirling around. “Kalim, what are you talking about?”

Kalim blinked at the retreating student before looking back at Jamil with a beaming smile. “(Y/N)! It’ll all be super romantic, right? And spring’s a time for new beginnings. We’ll have a string quartet and I’ll set up a gazebo with hanging lanterns and you can take her hands and look her in the eyes and say-” 

“Okay, okay, okay!” Jamil quickly said, clapping a hand over Kalim’s mouth before another eavesdropper got the wrong idea. “You have way to clear an image of all this.” 

“Of course! I think it’ll make a great story for your wedding!” 

Jamil heard a gasp. He turned just in time to see the first-year from before ducking behind the corner with another in tow. 

Yup. There was the headache coming. 

“Kalim,” Jamil said, measuring his words as steadily as he could. “I’m not going to confess anything to (Y/N).” 

Kalim pouted. “Aww, why not?” 

“Because I don’t have feelings for her.” 

“What? Of course you do!” 

“I promise I don’t.” 

“Don’t worry, she’ll definitely say yes.” 

“That’s not the problem here.” Jamil sighed. “Look, I get that you have good intentions, but you don’t need to go overboard and be involved in everything. We talked about this, remember? The whole thing about boundaries?” Actually, (Y/N) had mediated that conversation a few days after Jamil’s Overblot. Is that why Kalim had become convinced they had some sort of romantic attraction? Because talking about feelings must lead to the extreme of those feelings? 

Kalim looked chastened, a certain wet puppy dog look that would make most people fold instantly. Jamil was not most people. “Right, I remember. I just…” Jamil waited for Kalim to continue, silently hoping he would just drop it. “I want you to be happy, you know? And I think you’d be really happy with (Y/N)!” 

Jamil looked at Kalim sideways. “It’s more of a two way street, you know.” 

“Well, yeah, but (Y/N) likes you too!” 

Jamil tripped over his own feet again. He felt a strange kind of dread at the way his heart skipped a beat as a warm feeling flooded his chest. 

“She-what-Where did you hear that?” 

Kalim shrugged, smiling coyly. “I can tell. Just like how I can tell you like her.” 

“I don’t,” Jamil said firmly. 

Kalim held up his hands in surrender. “I hear you! Boundaries! I won’t mention it again.” He added under his breath, “Even if I think you two would be really cute together.” 

“I heard that.” 

*

Behind them, hidden in the long shadows of the Scarabia hallways, a cluster of students were beginning to plot. 

*

The next day, Jamil was taking some time to relax between classes. Well, as much as he could relax. Mostly his thoughts were occupied jumping between organizing for the Welcome Spring party, creating a mental schedule of what school projects were do when, planning what he would make Kalim for lunch for the next week-

“Jamil!” 

He turned to see (Y/N) waving at him. He felt his heart start thumping rapidly in his chest. Stop it, He thought. I can’t let Kalim get in my head like that. 

“Hi,” She said, coming up to him. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Not really. Just saw you over here stuck in your own head again.” She elbowed him playfully. Jamil felt himself smile without realizing it and quickly schooled his features to a more serious expression. “Want to take a break? I snagged these cookies from Sam’s. Tomorrow’s the expiration date so I got them on sale.” 

Jamil wrinkled his nose. “Is it worth it?” 

(Y/N) shrugged, taking a bite of a cookie. “It’s in the budget. You know, whenever Crowley actually decides to pay me.” 

“You know, if you’re ever short on food you can always come to Scarabia. If Kalim’s not throwing another party with a buffet I can get you something. I always make extras for Kalim, anyway.” This was not entirely true. Jamil had had practically his entire life to get used to cooking for Kalim, and it was only recently that he had started making larger batches, packaging them up to deliver to a certain magicless prefect who’s nutritional health he definitely didn’t worry about.  

(Y/N) smiled and offered him the cookie bag. “You look after everyone all the time, don’t you?” 

Jamil smiled back and took a cookie. They sat in an alcove in the hallway, chatting about nothing of significance. Jamil told a story about how Floyd had insisted Jamil teach him how to spin on his head during basketball practice and (Y/N) told him stories of her recent trip to Harveston, Epel’s hometown, and the sled race against the surprise Royal Sword Academy students. 

Jamil saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but whatever it was disappeared before he could catch it. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

“Oh, about the stuffed animals. Sebeck won’t admit it, but I think he still has his squirrel plush in his room. I don’t think it’s magic anymore but it is really cute.” 

Jamil heard the drag of a bow on strings and looked around. 

(Y/N) frowned. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.” 

Jamil shook his head. “No, sorry, I’m fine. I thought I heard-” 

Music started to pour around them. Although it was the calming, one might almost say romantic, type, they both still jumped at the sudden noise. Jamil jumped up, looking around, and took a hit of sunflower petals directly to his face. 

“Omar!” Someone hissed. “Be careful!” 

“Sorry, Babkak,” A voice squeaked back. 

Wait, Jamil knew those voices. He whipped around the corner, seeing a group of Scarabia first-years. Several formed a string quartet, softly playing music. The other two had a bucket of flower petals, one of them throwing handfuls in the air while the other directed a zephyr spell to blow them across the hallway. The two froze with wide eyes at the sight of their Vice-House Warden. 

“What,” Jamil said, voice steely and arms crossed. “Are you doing?” 

The string players looked nervously at each other but continued to play. Omar gapped like a codfish. Babkak stood up straight with a confident smile. “We’re setting the mood!” 

“What mood?” “For your confession!” 

Oh. Oh, no. Now Jamil realized how he recognized them. Babkak was the one who dropped the flower pot yesterday and Omar was the one he had dragged with him to eavesdrop. They must have heard what Kalim had said yesterday about him and (Y/N) and taken the wrong idea. And, Jamil justified to himself, it was definitely the wrong idea. 

“Jamil?”  

Jamil turned so fast the first-years were momentarily worried about whiplash. (Y/N) stood at the corner, looking curiously at the impromptu band and flowers. Behind him, Jamil could hear them hastily whispering to each other to keep playing and trying to get the effect of floating flower petals just right. 

“Something going on?” She asked. 

“No!” Jamil said, perhaps a little too quickly. “They were just leaving.” He glared at the first-years. “After they clean this up.” 

(Y/N) took a step forward. Jamil felt his mouth go dry as she reached up and plucked a few stray yellow petals from his hair. “Is this for a botany project or something? Kind of romantic, huh?” 

Jamil felt his face burn with embarrassment. 

“No!” Jamil said, at the same time Babkak said, “Yes!” 

“Okay,” (Y/N) said, rolling closed the half-full bag of cookies. “Well, I should probably get going. I need to see what kind of trouble Grim has gotten into while I was gone. I’ll see you later, Jamil.” She waved to him and then the first-years. 

“What made you think this was a good idea?” Jamil asked, trying very hard not to yell, when (Y/N) was out of earshot. 

“Sorry, sir,” Omar said, dejectedly picking up flower petals. He glared up at Babkak. “I told you we should have gone for the romantic dinner. And rose petals, not sunflowers.” 

Babkak waved his friend off. “Don’t be so cliche. Besides, sunflowers are way better! They’re pretty and you can eat the seeds!” 

“Hey!” Jamil snapped. The two boys looked back up at him while the other first-years were trying to discreetly pack up their instruments. “I asked what you were doing? Did Kalim put you up to this?” 

“No, sir, this was all us!” Babkak said, a little too proudly. “We wanted to help.” “Yeah,” Omar said. “We’re all rooting for you, Vice-House Warden, sir!” The other first-years made noises of agrement. 

“Rooting for me?” 

“With (Y/N), to tell her you love her!” 

Jamil groaned, covering his eyes with his hand and rubbing his temples. “I am not in love with the Prefect.” Jamil missed the skeptical look the two gave each other. “Look, I appreciate the…vote of confidence, but I’m not going to confess anything to anyone any time soon. So whatever else you have planned, or whoever else you told this rumor to, you can give it a break. Understand?” 

“Yes, Vice-House Warden,” They all echoed dutifully. 

As Jamil marched away, Omar leaned over to Babkak. “I’ve got twenty madol that say he confesses before the spring party.” 

*

Jamil’s muscles were burning, and he welcomed it. He needed the distraction after this morning and basketball practice against Floyd in full force was a pretty good diversion. Ace had been uncharacteristically distracted all practice. Although Jamil couldn’t help but notice that Ace seemed to pass a little harder than necessary. 

During a water break, Ace came up to Jamil. He tossed his water bottle between his hands, taking a step away and then closer. 

Jamil knew he would regret it before he even asked, “What’s up, Ace?” 

Ace startled, surprised Jamil had made the first move. “I heard something,” He said. “In potions class today.” 

“Did someone blow up something again? Anyone get turned into an animal or something?” 

Ace pressed his lips together. “Do you like (Y/N)?” 

Jamil couldn’t decide whether to be exhausted, flustered, or annoyed. “Who told you that?” 

Ace’s eyes widened in shock. “You do?!” 

“No!” Jamil snapped back. “People are just going around spreading rumors.” 

“Huh?” Floyd asked, sliding over on the bleachers. “I thought everyone knew already.” 

“Knew?”

Floyd flashed his sharp teeth. “Come on, Sea Snake. Everyone knows you’re, what’s the land term? Head over heels for Shrimpy.” 

Ace dropped his water bottle and jabbed an accusatory finger at Jamil. “I knew it!” 

“You don’t know anything,” Jamil said, shoving Ace’s hand aside. 

“Oh?” Floyd said, leaning in a little too close. “So that means she’s available then?” 

“No!” Ace and Jamil both shouted at the same time. Ace glared at Jamil. A few other members of the basketball club glanced over, snickering to themselves at the outburst. 

Ace puffed out his chest, planting himself solidly in front of Jamil. “Look, (Y/N) is one of my best friends. And if you do anything to mess with her then… then…” Ace fumbled, running out of steam with his threats before catching his second wind. “Then you’ll have to deal with Jack!” 

Jamil crooked an eyebrow. “Jack? Not you or Deuce?” 

Ace shrugged. “Jack’s the biggest. But Deuce did used to be a delinquent. I’ve seen him be pretty brutal when he wants to. And I guess Epel can scrap up too, when Vil isn’t around. Probably couldn’t convince Sebeck to help out, he’d just lecture about a knight’s honor or something. Ooh, Ortho had a blast cannon! So, you know, watch out!” 

“I like how you didn’t put yourself in the line of fire there, Crabby,” Floyd said. He rolled his shoulders. “But you know, I think Shrimpy is pretty great, too. I don’t want to see her sad or anything. So if someone were to maybe break her heart,” He glanced sideways as Jamil with crazed wide eyes. “Can you swim, Sea Snake?” 

Jamil just glowered back at him. “Can everyone just stop talking about (Y/N) today?” 

“People are talking about me?” All three of them jumped. (Y/N) walked into the gym, Grim hanging off her shoulders. “I thought I felt my ears burning.”  

“Shrimpy!” Floyd immediately ran up to her, sweeping her up in a tight squeezing hug. Grim jumped off her shoulders with a yelp. Ace yelled and pulled at Floyd’s jersey, trying to pry them apart. 

(Y/N) weakly patted Floyd’s back with a free hand. “Hi, Floyd, hi, Ace. Sorry, I need Jamil real quick.” 

The two boys froze, slowly turning their heads to stare at Jamil, who was busy hiding his face in his hands. They watched like hawks as (Y/N) walked over to Jamil. 

“Hey,” She said. “You okay?” 

“Fine,” He said, waving her off. “Just one of those days, you know?”

She frowned. “You need me to talk to someone? I can chew out Ace if you want. Floyd is sort of out of my league, though.” 

Jamil sighed a laugh. “No, that’s fine.” 

“Oh! Right! Hang on.” She slung her backpack off her shoulder, reaching in and pulling out a familiar water bottle. “Here, you left this in the library. One of the Scarabia first-years found it and asked me to bring it to you.” 

“Oh, thanks. I was wondering where it was.” Jamil didn’t mention that he hadn’t been in the library at all today. As he reached to take it, their fingers brushed. Jamil grabbed the bottle and jerked back like he had been scorched. His heart was hammering, not from the exercise of basketball practice, and he was momentarily worried (Y/N) would be able to hear it. Not to mention if she would notice how clammy his hands had suddenly become. 

“Well,” (Y/N) said. “I guess I’ll get out of your hair-”

“Wait!” 

The entire basketball team, plus (Y/N) and Grim, turned to the sudden outburst. Babkak had half way thrown himself out of the doorway entrance to the gym, hand extended in a Stop motion. Omar guilty peaked out from the door frame. 

“Uh, I mean,” Babkak said, back peddling. 

“You should stay!” Omar jumped in. “I mean, we should all stay to watch practice! Support your local team and everything!” He weakly punched the air. “Go team?” 

Jamil opened his mouth to chastise them again before (Y/N) spoke, “That sounds fun. I don’t get to see you guys play too often. If that’s okay with you, though.” 

“Oh, um,” Jamil stuttred. 

Floyd jumped up, throwing himself over Jamil’s shoulders and smiling wide. “Of course you can stay! You can watch Sea Snake show off!” 

Jamil elbowed him. “You’re the one who shows off, Floyd.”

(Y/N) shrugged, smiling. (And Jamil definitely didn’t feel his heart flip.) “I don’t have any plans.” 

As everyone got back in position for practice, Ace took his place, whispering to Jamil, “Remember: Ortho has a laser cannon.” 

Jamil rolled his eyes. 

From the corner of his eye, Jamil saw the group of Scarabia first-years shuffle into the bleachers around (Y/N) and Grim. He thought he saw a few of them hiding objects behind their backs, but was pulled back to the game before he could investigate further. 

He lost himself back in the game. Sneakers squeaked against the waxed wooden floor, the bounce of the ball reverberated around the gym, each quick and practiced movement by the players blurring at the edge of Jamil’s vision. Another player passed him the ball. He faked left, turning around Floyd, before lining up a shot at the three point line. He raised the ball, arms tensing in preparation to shoot and- 

A blare of sound echoed through the gym, bouncing off the acoustic walls and tumbling down around everyone in attendance. The ball slipped from Jamil’s hands, falling uselessly in a pathetic arc and bouncing across the court floor. Jamil turned to the bleachers where the noise had come from. The first-years, Jamil now recognized them as the string quartet from earlier, now made up a brass band. The noise he had heard was the blast from a tuba. The rest of the band joined in, trumpets, french horn, and bugle. They started playing a high-energy marching tune. How many instruments did these people know how to play anyway? Omar and Babkak had red and yellow pom poms, waving them enthusiastically. Babkak passed a pair to a bewildered (Y/N). 

“Go, Vice-Housewarden Jamil!” Babkak cheered. 

“Show them who’s boss, sir!” Omar whooped. 

Everyone froze, looking from the impromptu cheering section and band to Jamil then back again. Jamil’s face felt as hot as the Scalding Sands desert at noon. It didn’t help at all when Floyd started cackling. 

He began to march over to confront his dorm mates, again, when a new echoing sound made him pause. (Y/N) had thrown her head back in laughter. She stood, waving the pom poms above her head. 

“Go, Jamil, go!” She cheered. 

Jamil was pretty sure he was going to spontaneously combust at any second. 

*

The rest of practice had been a disaster. Every time Jamil got the ball the bleachers would erupt in noise, distracting him and everyone else trying to play. Jamil had never felt so off his game, fumbling the ball, bumping into his teammates, and losing focus at every moment that mattered, and most of the ones that didn’t, too. He purposely avoided turning in the direction of the cheering squad, partially because he wanted to discourage whatever activities the first-years were insistent on doing, and partially so he didn’t have to see (Y/N) cheer for him so enthusiastically. (And, maybe, so she wouldn’t be able to see how flustered he was becoming with every second.) 

A teammate had patted Jamil’s shoulder in sympathy as they headed to the showers after practice. “Don’t worry,” He said. “I bet she still likes you.” 

Jamil resisted the urge to punch him. 

Now, at least, he was back in a rhythm of something he knew how to do: cooking. Ever since his stint in the Culinary Crucible, the ghost chefs had tapped him and a few other stand out cases to help out in the kitchen every once and a while. 

The kitchen filled with the scent of roasting spices and sizzling meat, spilling out into the cafeteria sitting area. Students had started lining up way before the kitchen officially opened to secure their plate of Jamil’s cooking. Jamil felt the tension melt out of his shoulders, much like the butter in the pan he was currently using, as he fell into his familiar rhythms. 

“Thanks again for your help,” One of the ghost chefs said, floating by with a steaming bowl of freshly made turmeric rice. 

“Not a problem,” He replied. “It gets me out of my own head.” 

“Oh?” Another ghost asked. “Having troubles, youngster?” 

“Girl troubles, maybe?�� Another snickered. 

All the ghosts jumped as Jamil brought down a butcher knife to decapitate a fish. They collectively decided it was maybe best to drop the topic, already deceased or not. 

“Ah, Jamil, chef, sir?” A student volunteer said, warily eyeing the butcher knife. “Someone was having an issue with their meal. They wanted to talk to you.” 

So much for his relaxation. Jamil quickly let the others know what to keep an eye on in the kitchen and headed out to the main sitting area. He scanned the tables. It looked like everyone was enjoying their food as far as he could tell. He looked back into the window of the kitchen. The volunteer student pointed at a table near the back by a window. He was about half way across the room when he realized that the student was a Scarabia student, a first-year in fact. And, now that he thought of it, he didn’t think he had seen that student in the kitchen before he had come to talk to Jamil. 

Jamil froze, seeing exactly who was sitting at the indicated table. This was a set up. He turned around to go back, only to be stonewalled by two now very familiar Scarabia students. 

“Hello, sir!” Omar chirped. 

“Taking your dinner break?” Babkak asked. “Great! We have the perfect table for you.” 

They both hooked their arms around Jamil’s and practically dragged him over to the table where (Y/N) and Grim sat. 

“Oh, hi,” She said, blinking at the surprise arrival. Jamil felt his throat tighten and couldn’t formulate a response. 

The musically talented first-years descended to the table, quickly picking up her plate of food to whisk a tablecloth over the table, setting down a candelabra which was quickly lit, and a vase with a dozen roses. 

“Roses,” Omar whispered to Babkak with a sly smile. Babkak rolled his eyes. The two shoved Jamil into a seat opposite (Y/N). A plate of food was set in front of him. The sneaky Scarabia student from the kitchen grabbed Grim, shoving a plate of tuna tartare in his paws before he could protest. Then, the group of wannabe restaurateurs vanished as quickly as they had appeared. The two left at the table, Jamil and (Y/N), looked at eachother with confusion. Jamil dropped his head to stare intently at his plate, stabbing at the sayadieh with his fork. 

“Hey,” Jamil was jerked out of his thoughts by (Y/N)’s voice. “I wanted to apologize for earlier, at practice. It looked like we were a pretty big distraction.” 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Jamil said. “It wasn’t your fault.” He glared at the first-years eagerly watching from a table a safe distance away. 

“Yeah, but still, I don’t need to make your life any harder.” 

Jamil looked up at her. She was twirling her spoon around the tabouli, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. “You don’t make my life harder,” he insisted. “In fact, you’ve made a lot of things easier. My relationship with Kalim is a lot better now, for one thing.” 

She smiled at him, and his heart definitely didn’t skip a beat. “Well, glad I can help, then. But don’t sell yourself short. You’ve been doing a lot of work since everything that happened.” She waved her hand, regarding the invisible thing they both understood. It was still hard to talk directly about his Overblot, the manipulation, abuse of magic, and kidnapping aside. (Y/N) had told him she wanted to give him space for it, to consider how he felt and talk to others at his own pace, but still trying to address the root of the issues. That was when she had started organizing those sessions between her, Jamil, and Kalim, giving them a place to directly talk with each other without outside pressures and influences, helping them work things together as friends instead of the master/servant role Jamil so often felt himself confided to. 

“This is great, by the way,” (Y/N) interjected, scooping up a mouthful of tabouli. “I can always tell when it’s your cooking. Thanks for those leftovers the other day. I know Grim really likes them too.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” He said. He didn’t say, “I didn’t make it for Grim. I made it for you.” He blanched at the intrusive thought and snatched up his water glass, taking a large gulp and trying not to choke. 

“You sure you’re okay?” (Y/N) asked. “You’ve seemed kind of on edge all day.” 

“I’ll deal with it later,” Jamil said, looking over at the first-years who started enthusiastically nodding and giving him thumbs-up. 

(Y/N) drummed her fingers against the table.  “Listen, actually, there’s been something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about-” 

“Lgeimat!” Jamil shouted. 

She blinked at him. “Sorry?” 

“The lgeimat! I left them in the fryer! Sorry, have to go, have a good night!” Jamil shot up and zipped back to the safety of the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know we were having lgeimat tonight,” Omar said from their spying perch. 

Babkak thudded his head on the table at their third defeat. “We’re not.” He grumbled. 

*

Jamil collapsed on the low couches in the Scarabia common room, arm flung across his face to cover his eyes from the late evening light. The day felt like it went on forever. Jamil had caught himself constantly looking over his shoulder, jerking at every unexpected sound, in anticipation of an over eager group of first-years. 

“Hi, Jamil-Oh,” Kalim stopped himself, looking over at his drained friend. “You okay?” 

Jamil sighed in response. “Long day.” 

“Oh.” Kalim sat down next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Jamil peered out from under his arm at Kalim. At least that was one improvement, again, thanks to (Y/N) specific intervention. Kalim had slowly been teaching himself not to jump to conclusions or take it upon himself to fix everything by throwing money or extravagance at it, but by taking the time to hear other people, namely Jamil, out first. Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t throw money or extravagance at the problem in the end, but progress was progress. 

Jamil gave Kalim a halfhearted glare. “It’s all thanks to that rumor you started.” 

Kalim blinked. “Rumor? Oh, you mean about how you’re in love with-”

“Yes!” Jamil cut him off, sitting bolt upright. “That! Some first-years heard you the other day and have been following me around, trying to start up some grand romantic gesture.” 

“Oh, yeah, I heard about that. I think it’s sweet.” 

“Sweet?” 

“That everyone believes in you! Everyone knows how hard you work. We all want to see you happy and with the person you love.” 

Jamil stood. “Kalim, I’m not-” 

“Nope.” Kalim said shooting up. He put his hands on the taller boy’s shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You’ve been different ever since winter break. You smile more when (Y/N)’s around. You’re not so tense all the time. And whenever we’re in a group, like at the cafeteria or dorm meetings or parties, you’re always looking for her. And when you see her your whole face just lights up! Do you know how often you talk about her? It’s a lot, Jamil! ‘Oh, I wonder what (Y/N) would think about this. Do you think (Y/N) has that in her world? Do you think (Y/N) likes spicy or sweet food? Do you think (Y/N)’s doing okay at Ramshackle? Do you think she needs help with any repairs like when we stayed there during VDC training? (Y/N) sure works real hard to catch up with a whole new culture. Do you think (Y/N) would want this extra curry?’”  

“I don’t sound like that,” Jamil protested weakly. 

Kalim sighed, hands on his hips. “I’ve known you my whole life. I know what you’re like when you’re mad, I know what you’re like when you’re sad, I know what you’re like when you’re happy, and now I know what you’re like when you’re in love.” 

Jamil pushed back. “I’m not in love with her!” 

“Yes, you are!” 

“I’m not-” Jamil cut himself off. He felt suddenly dizzy. He sat down hard. “Oh, I’m in love with her.” 

Kalim threw his hands in the air. “Yes! Thank you! Finally!” 

“But,” Jamil continued, and Kalim tried really hard to keep his frustration to himself. “I can’t tell her that. I can’t… put that kind of pressure on her. She has enough going on with Grim and Ramshackle and trying to find a way home and… Sevens, she’s going back home, Kalim! I don’t know when or how, but she won’t even be in this universe! And what, I’m just supposed to show up and dump this emotional baggage on her when she already has everything else to worry about?” 

Kalim sat down next to Jamil. He twirled his fingers together, trying to collect his thoughts. Why was it always so hard to know the right thing to say? “You said feelings were like a two way street yesterday, remember? So don’t you think (Y/N) should have a say too?” 

“Kalim, I can’t-”

“Yes you can!” Kalim shouted, jumping up and clapping his hands. “You’re Jamil Viper! If anyone can do it, can do anything, it’s you! And keeping everything bottled up isn’t fair to you or her or anyone. So-So-” Kalim frowned, trying to look stern, a very strange expression for the normally boisterous boy. “So go tell her how you feel right now, and let her decide what happens next! That’s an order as your house warden!” Kalim flinched. “Please.” 

Jamil stared at him for just a second too long, making Kalim squirm with worry that he had gone too far. Then, Jamil sighed, resigned, a half smile on his face. “Well, if my house warden is ordering it, how can I say no?” 

*

Despite what he had told Kalim, Jamil dreaded every step towards Ramshackle dorm. Even with the ‘order’ from his house warden, Jamil considered turning back. Instead, with each uncertain step, he plotted out exactly what he would say. Was it just as simple as ‘I have feelings for you?’ Should he have some grand gesture ready? Absolutely not. Those first-years had spoiled that concept for him. 

Before he realized it, Jamil was walking up the pathway to the dilapidated dorm. He stood at the front step, fist up ready to knock. It hovered there. A plan, he still needed a plan. He couldn’t just walk in without a plan of what to say, what to do. He’d had the entire walk over here, how had he not come up with a more solid idea? 

The door snapped open in front of him, Grim hurdling out, crashing into Jamil’s chest. “What-? Oh, hey!” Grim said, rubbing his head at the bump then cracking into a wide smile at the sight of Jamil. “Did you bring us dinner again?” 

“Uh, no, not this time,” Jamil said, already thrown off. 

Grim frowned. “Meh, whatever. I’m going to Sam’s anyway to get some tuna.” 

“Milk and eggs!” (Y/N)’s voice called from inside. “You’re getting milk and eggs! And oranges if they have any.” 

“That too!” Grim said. He winked then sped off down the path. 

(Y/N) appeared at the doorway, clearly having sprinted to catch the dire beast before he left. “Grim, I said we don’t have the budget to- Oh, he’s gone. Right, sure, why not?” She sighed. “Hi, Jamil.” 

Jamil swallowed hard. “Should I come back later?” 

(Y/N) waved the idea off. “No, it’s fine, you’re already here. Come on in.” 

Jamil followed her into the dorm to the sitting room just past the entrance hall. Despite the age and wear of the building, it was clear that (Y/N) had taken a lot of pride in fixing it up and keeping everything in order. 

“Sorry, I was in the middle of doing dishes,” (Y/N) said, whipping her wet and slightly soapy hands against her skirt. “Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll get some tea and snacks.” 

“It’s fine,” Jamil said, quickly standing back up after having just sat down on one of the overstuffed couches. “I know where everything is, I’ll get it.” 

“No, no, you’re a guest. Take a break, I’ll get it.” 

“It’s fine really. I’m sure Crowly has been keeping you busy all day.” 

“And you’re just as busy. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

“No, really, I-” 

“Jamil!” Jamil jumped at her sudden outburst, his hands frozen in the air. She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “Honestly. You take care of everyone else all the time. Let me take care of you for once.” 

Oh no. Oh no. 

“Now sit down while I go make some tea.” 

He sat down. This was worse than he thought. He really was in love. 

She wanted to take care of him. Of him. When was the last time someone offered to take care of him, to lighten his load, to take responsibility for the burden? For as long as Jamil could remember that had been his job, his life. Kalim, Najma, his parents, the Scarabia students, everyone and everything. It was like he didn’t realize just how tired he was until (Y/N) offered to help. Why did her snapping at him just now make him feel so relieved? 

Almost without thinking about it, Jamil’s feet took him into the kitchen. (Y/N) was standing at the stove, setting down a heavy teapot on the burner. She was mumbling to herself about something, Jamil couldn’t really hear what. His ears were ringing. 

(Y/N) noticed that Jamil had come into the kitchen, turning to face him. She frowned, eyebrows knit together. “Jamil, I told you that - Oh!” 

Ignoring his anxiety, ignoring that nagging thought that he didn’t have a plan, ignoring the churning nervousness in his stomach, Jamil pulled (Y/N) into a tight hug, burning his face in her hair. 

“I like you,” He said, so softly that he had to repeat himself to make sure she heard, to make sure she understood the depth of his feelings. “I like you. I think I might even- I feel better when I’m with you, like I can be better. I don’t feel like everything I’ve done up until now is just in service to someone else, because all of those things lead me to meeting you. I feel like I can think clearly, that I don’t always have to be on alert. I want to take care of you, I want to be with you, I want us to be together. And I know - I know I’ve done horrible things in the past, I know you’ve seen me at my lowest. But you still see me, me, not anything else. Not the servant, not the diplomatic aid, not the Overblot monster- How could I not fall in love with you? So, (Y/N), please. I just - please.” He wasn’t quite sure what he was asking ‘please’ for, he only hoped she would understand. 

(Y/N) trailed her fingers along his back, threading through his long hair. She pulled back, as much as Jamil’s embrace would allow. The corners of her eyes were dotted with tears. “Jeeze, Jamil,” (Y/N) said. “Way to steal my thunder. I wanted to say it first.” 

Jamil let out a cracked laugh, tears welling up in his own eyes. “You did?” 

(Y/N) hiccuped, laughing. “Yeah, of course. I thought I was being kind of obvious with it. I finally decided to suck it up and tell you at dinner earlier, but you just ran away so I thought you knew what I was going to say and didn’t feel the same.” 

“Sorry, I guess I was nervous. And those first-years all day…” 

(Y/N) laughed out loud. “I was wondering what was up with that. Was that Kalim or something?” 

“For once, no. They took it upon themselves to try and set us up.” 

“Aww, they care about you.” She hugged him close. “And I can see why.” 

*

That weekend, it was finally time for the Welcome Spring party, and there were, indeed, more flowers than usual. Kalim was flitting around, making sure everything was organized and where it needed to be. Jamil had asked if he could leave for the morning, coming back when it was time for the party to start. And, even though he had been the one to ask for the time off, Jamil had double checked that it was okay with Kalim no less than a dozen times before he actually left. Kalim insisted repeatedly that he would be fine, that he had a handle on everything. And, maybe, for the most part he did. It definitely helped that Jamil had assigned tasks to several other dorm members the night before to make sure Kalim didn’t get too overwhelmed. 

Just as the golden hour set in, magical floating lanterns bobbing along in the air amid swirling flower petals, the guests started to arrive. Kalim had sent out a recommended dress code ahead of time, requesting pastels, whites, and gold. Something to fit in with the refreshing and floral mood he wanted to create. Mostly, he was happy to report, everyone was able to follow the requirements. Heartslabyul students especially were rigidly adhering to the dress code under the watchful eye of their house warden. Most of them wore pinks, as it was the required color when taking care of the dorm flamingos so they already had something that would fit the theme. Savannaclaw didn’t much stick to theme, but had tried to comply with sticking puffy peony blossoms through belt loops or behind their ears. Octavinelle wore light blues and corals, studded with shimmering scales, pearls, and other bits of underwater flora. Scarabia, of course, as the hosts, were the most bejeweled, taking inspiration from the fairy gala that had inadvertently plunged the campus into chaos, but also resulted in beautiful flowing white and gold garments. Pomfiore stayed mostly in lavenders and lilacs, highlighted by golden embroidery in fantastic scenes and shapes. Ignihyde, for those who did show up, dug out whatever was the lightest color in their wardrobe, mostly staying in light blues. Similarly, no one was expecting much from the usually dour-toned Diasomnia. But, not wanting to create a social fopaux at one of the few events he had received an invitation to, thanks to (Y/N) reminding Kalim to expand his guest list at the last minute, Malleus had ensured that all his dorm members wore mint and emerald green with gold dotted throughout. 

There was a noticeable absence of two usually prominent figures, but Kalim assured everyone Jamil and (Y/N) would be arriving soon. And, although Jamil had tried to slip in quietly while everyone’s attention was focused on the dance floor for an aerial ribbon performance, Kalim’s squeal of delight quickly diverted everyone’s attention. Jamil held in a groan as attention whirled to him and (Y/N). They both wore outfits from the fairy gala, meticulously designed and created by Professor Crewel. She squeezed his hand in support, dragging him further in, head held high while ignoring the stares. A few Scarabia students gave congratulations, thumping Jamil’s back as he passed. Ace caught Jamil’s eye from the other side of the room. He pointed to Ortho, who was waving excitedly, and drew a finger across his throat. Jamil rolled his eyes. 

As the aerial dancers finished, (Y/N) drew Jamil to the dance floor. As a band kicked up (seriously, how many instruments did those Scarabia students know how to play?), (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Jamil’s neck as he placed his hands on her hips. He really hoped she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his palms had gotten. 

“You’re nervous,” (Y/N) said. “I’m not used to seeing you like that.” 

“I’ve just never really done this before,” Jamil said. “Not dancing, I’ve done that plenty. Just the whole relationship thing. I never really had a chance before. I don’t want to mess this up.” 

“I think you’ve been doing pretty good so far.” 

Jamil smirked. “It’s been two days.” 

“Well, see? You’re gaining experience already.” She leaned forward, placing her head on his chest. “I’m nervous, too, you know. Not about this. I’m really confident how I feel about you, and I want to stay with you for as long as I can. I mean about everything going on around us. There’s a lot of unknown. Technically, you know, I don’t even exist. Don’t have any papers like a birth certificate or passport or even a valid nationality. But I know I have great people helping me out, including you. And knowing they’re on my side, it helps make things a little better. And I’m on your side. So everything will work out, you know?” 

Jamil hummed. Lowley, in a quiet voice so he could dismiss it if she didn’t hear him, he asked, “Can I kiss you?” 

(Y/N) looked up at him, smiling, eyes twinkling. “I’d like that.”  

*

Off to the side, behind a bolt of silk cloth, Babkak handed Omar a 20 madol note.

#wafflefriesfic #fanfic #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #jamil x reader #jamil x yuu #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #fan fiction

[deanstead]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Requested: Yes, by anon

Summary: Sam gets an unexpected call from Y/N, which brings another surprise for Dean

Word Count: 2.7K

Tags/Warnings: Dad!Dean, canon-typical mentions of blood/violence

A/N: In my "everything i write sucks" era but thanks to @seatsbythepit for her consistent beta services! I think this was in my inbox for a (long) while so I finally got this out!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST

Sam frowned, glancing at his phone where it was lighting up with an incoming call from a number he didn’t know.

Not many people had this number, so he picked up warily, as Dean looked up.

“Hello?”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line before a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Sam?” 

Sam froze.

“Y/N?”

Dean sat up straighter, his eyes flicking toward his brother but Sam wasn’t paying attention.

It had been more than 2 years since you’d left and not a day had gone by that Dean didn’t blame himself for it. Sometimes, when he lay in bed at night, the last fight still haunted him - the look in your eyes when those hurtful words had cut across the room, the defeated sound in your voice as you looked him in the eyes and told him that if that’s what he thought of you, there was no point to all this.

After you left, he’d spent too many days staring at your name in his lists of contacts, his thumb hovering over the call button. The days ticked by, and soon it was way too late for Dean to call or reach out so he was left with replaying the last conversation you’d ever had like he needed to torture himself to make up for the hurt.

“Where are you?” Sam’s voice pulled Dean out of his thoughts and he frowned. That was never a good sign.

Sam spoke in a low voice before he nodded and hung up.

Dean stared at his younger brother as Sam stood, pausing as his eyes flicked toward Dean who was watching intently.

“Dean, she…”

Dean nodded, his eyes flicking back downward. “Yeah, I don’t blame her.”

“Look, why don’t you help from here, alright? I’ll make sure she’s alright.” Sam said, although he knew it must be killing Dean. 

“Yeah, just let me know what you need,” Dean responded, failing to hide the slight dejection in his voice as Sam left.

“Sammy.”

His name flowed off your lips the moment you opened the door, feeling familiar yet foreign at the same time. Yet, it was really good to see him.

Sam just smiled, enveloping you in a tight hug the way only an older brother would. “It’s good to see you.”

You nodded, smiling.

“You flying solo?” Sam asked, frowning.

You shook your head. “I’m not hunting. Not really. We were just passing through and I wanted to just run, but I… I couldn’t. Now, my friend’s sister is missing and I just…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Wait. We?”

You gave him a guilty smile. “That’s why I called.” You paused before continuing. “And why I asked you to come alone. I didn’t think I should surprise Dean out here.”

Sam gave you a confused look and you exhaled slowly.

Without saying anything more, you led Sam into the room, as his eyes fell upon a two-year-old kid. A kid who was unmistakably Dean’s son as he gripped a miniature Impala car in his hand where he was sitting on the ground.

Sam looked at you in surprise.

You nodded. “This is Leo.”

It was probably a Winchester thing but Leo took to Sam almost immediately despite the fact he never let anyone else but you carry him for the past two years. 

You remembered how he’d wail in the doctor's or nurse’s arms but he seemed perfectly content sitting in Uncle Sammy’s arms now, playing with Sam’s hair.

“I was gonna get a friend to watch him, but if he likes you so much…”

Sam looked at you like you were crazy. “You’re not going alone.”

You exhaled slowly and nodded, like you’d already expected this answer from him.

Instead, Sam asked to review the information you had. It felt almost like the good old days, as you watched Sam pore over the notes you had at the small desk at the motel, the only thing different being that Dean wasn’t here and you had a two-year-old who’d fallen asleep in your arms.

You knew Sam was planning to call Dean when he left to get dinner but you pretended like you didn’t, busying yourself with preparing Leo’s meal.

When Sam returned with food for the both of you, you glanced at him and he nodded. “Yeah, I called Dean. Look, you know the research there is helpful. It won’t hurt.”

You shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

Sam glanced up at you. “What’s the plan, Y/N? Why didn’t you tell him? Or me?”

You glanced over your shoulder at where Leo was sleeping soundly and sighed softly. “I don’t know. I guess… I guess Dean and I never really had the talk. I didn’t know where he stood with regards to having kids, especially in this life.”

You paused, looking up at Sam momentarily before continuing. “Besides, we’d broken up. I thought he’d try to come and get me but… well, he didn’t. By the time I found out I was pregnant, too much time had passed and I didn’t know how to tell him.”

Sam nodded quietly, letting you continue.

“But I got out. I didn’t let Leo into this part of our life. Until today. And I hate it that he’s here when there’s a nest of fucking vamps right here. I didn’t…”

Sam reached out and squeezed your shoulder. “You were right to call. No matter what, it never hurts to have someone looking out for you.”

You smiled. “Well, I’m glad it’s you…”

“And Dean. Sorta.” You added after a small silence.

The conversation was cut short by Sam’s phone and he quickly answered it. “Anything good?”

You could hear the crackle of Dean’s voice and you felt your heart give a jolt. A jolt that didn’t exactly surprise you. Of course, how could you ever get over Dean Winchester?

You could vaguely hear Dean giving Sam some additional information before Sam hung up, glancing at you.

“You sure about this, Y/N?”

You glanced at Leo before nodding. You planted a firm kiss on Leo’s head, nodding to your friend, Samantha.

“Don’t worry. Sam’s great at what he does. We’ll figure this out.” 

She nodded back at you, assuring you that Leo was in safe hands.

It was your first hunt in a long while, but being a hunter seemed to already be a part of your DNA. 

Armed with the information that Dean had dug up, you and Sam managed to infiltrate the nest, easily lopping heads of vampires off as they were caught off-guard. You were glad Sam was there to have your back, especially when you both made your way to the dead center of the nest. 

“Sharon?” You kept your voice low. 

You headed to where she was huddled in the corner. You didn’t know Sharon well but you’d met once or twice when you’d come up here to meet Samantha.

“Y/N?” 

Her voice shook slightly. 

You nodded. “Yeah. I promised Samantha I’d bring you home.”

Sharon looked around, her eyes flicking to a dead body lying to the side. “They’re…”

You shook your head at Sharon. “Sharon, look at me. We’re going to get you home alright? Trust me.”

“Come on, Y/N.” Sam urged gently. 

Of course, you knew hunts never went that smoothly. 

A growl alerted you that a vamp had joined you and your body stiffened, the grip on the machete in your hand tightening. 

“Sam, get her out of here.”

“Y/N.” Sam’s voice was stressed and you recognized it, the struggle between leaving you here and taking Sharon to safety. 

“I’ll be fine.” You assured him, glancing back at the new arrival.

Sam didn’t answer but you knew the exact moment when he took Sharon and left, their footsteps seeming to echo as they got further away. 

“You hunters are the real monsters.” The vampire droned, staring at you. “Here we are, just trying to survive and you break into our home and kill my entire family.”

You tried to stifle the sarcastic laughter that was at the tip of your tongue.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

You knew it was coming before the vampire twitched, and you swung your machete upward as he rushed toward you. 

The vampire sidestepped, missing the machete by inches as it growled, even more determined to get you.

You stepped back again as it lunged at you, your heart sinking as you felt yourself lose your footing. 

Fuck. 

You rolled out of the way but the vampire was too quick, pouncing upon you. 

You raised your machete but it was too close, the machete inching closer toward you as the vampire bared its fangs at you. 

You held onto a single thought. You had to get home to Leo. 

Then, as if by sheer willpower, the unmistakable sound of a blade swishing through the air before the vampire’s head rolled off its shoulders. 

“Dean?”

Dean had lasted all of five minutes after the last call with Sam before he’d muttered a “screw this” to himself and torn his way out of the bunker and down to where Sam and you were.

You were still stunned as Dean rolled what was left of the vampire off you and helped you up.

“You alright? Are you hurt?” Dean’s eyes studied you, unable to differentiate if the blood on you was the result of any injuries you might have sustained before he’d arrived.

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

The atmosphere sank into awkwardness as the both of you stood there now in silence.

“Sorry, Y/N. I know you wanted me to sit this one out, but I…”

You shook your head and interrupted him. “No, I… Thanks, Dean.”

You fell back into silence, both of you walking out toward the exit to Sam.

“God, Y/N!” Sharon’s stressed voice made her way to you first but you didn’t miss the surprised look Sam gave his brother even as you were assuring Sharon you weren’t hurt.

You looked up to see Dean quietly heading to the Impala, and before you could think through your next move, you were running toward him.

“Dean.”

Dean paused and turned to look at you.

You took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

There was a look in Dean’s eyes that sat somewhere between confusion and intrigue.

You looked down at your blood-stained clothes and smiled. “Give me a few hours and I’ll come meet you at the bunker?” 

The words rolled off your tongue feeling foreign yet welcoming at the same time.

“The bunker?” Dean asked.

You shrugged. “Or wherever you guys want. If you don’t want me there.”

Dean shook his head. “That’s not what I…” He paused before continuing. “See you there.”

You watched the Impala drive off before you turned back to look at Sam, who had a small smile on his face, and you knew he’d heard everything.

You’d delivered Sharon safely back to Samantha, who hadn’t asked any questions, just glad to see her sister again. and you even managed to shower and change before Leo even noticed you and Sam were gone.

Now, Sam pulled up outside the bunker and you took a deep breath. 

“Ready?” Sam asked softly.

You gave a short laugh. “Never.”

You felt everything at the same time as you took Leo in your arms and walked into the bunker, the memories seeming to hit you all at once - the way this place made you feel, the laughter in your head that belonged to a memory of the three of you as you sat in Dean's embrace.

Even if this was the same place where things had ended, it was the happy memories that followed you as you walked down the stairs now.

Dean stepped out of the kitchen, freezing in his footsteps.

His eyes took in the sight before him, a kid that looked like a carbon copy of himself except for the eyes that were undoubtedly yours.

“Y/N…”

You cleared your throat and exhaled. 

“Hey Leo, let’s go find you some snacks,” Sam said, reaching his hands out for Leo.

Leo cracked a smile and allowed Sam to pick him out of your arms. “Pie!”

Sam glanced over at Dean, unable to hide a chuckle. “I’m sure we have that.”

The silence that followed was almost loud as Dean looked at you in disbelief and you cleared your throat. “Let’s talk.”

Dean led the way into the library, unsure if he should be pissed or happy to see you.

You leaned against one of the tables, as Dean looked back at you.

“Sorry.” You said quietly, looking down. You knew Dean had every right to be angry and you braced yourself for the rise in his voice but nothing came.

You glanced up at him again, meeting the green eyes you’d sorely missed.

Met with Dean’s silence you spoke again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. By the time I found out about it, too much time had passed since the last time we spoke. I stared at your number but I was afraid. I…” You took another breath. “We never talked about this. I didn’t know if you’d be happy or not and I chickened out.”

“So were you never going to tell me?” Dean finally asked.

You couldn’t really determine the tone of his voice but you shook your head.

“I… I kinda was on the way here.” You said quietly.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I didn’t really have a plan.” You said. “Part of me thought if I just drove here, I wouldn’t be able to back out anymore. Then, that nest of vamps kidnapped my friend’s sister so I…”

“So you called Sam.” It was a statement.

You gave him a tentative smile. “Didn’t think you’d appreciate seeing Leo without an explanation in the middle of a hunt.”

Dean exhaled slowly.

“So what now?” Dean asked.

You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid your eyes would give you away. The eyes that screamed how you were still in love with him and that you’d missed him every single day that you’d been apart. The way your heart crumbled every time Leo smiled because it reminded you of Dean, and how all you wanted was to be enveloped in those arms again.

Even as those thoughts ran through your mind, you felt the prick of tears because this was exactly why you’d put off telling Dean about Leo.

“I don’t know, D.” You answered quietly. 

Your voice cracked slightly and you hoped Dean hadn’t picked up on it.

“Y/N.” He called, forcing you to look up at him, even though the tears blurred your vision.

Dean closed the gap between the both of you, one hand cupping your face as he pressed his lips against yours, his other arm snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“God, I missed you,” Dean whispered, as he pulled away just a little, your faces still pressed together.

You buried your face into his shoulder without saying anything, feeling your tears get absorbed into the shirt he had on.

You needn’t have worried about Leo. You looked at you son clutching the tiny toy Impala while he sat in his father's arms almost triumphantly as they came back in. Dean had brought Leo to see the real thing, and Leo had a ball of a time just sitting in the Impala.

“Mama, can we stay?” Leo asked with anticipation in his voice.

You froze. Dean and you hadn’t talked about anything. He’d kissed you, you’d hugged and then you’d gotten him out of that library to meet his son.

Dean closed the gap between the two of you, putting Leo into a giant hug between the both of you before he reached out for your hand.

“Stay,” Dean said quietly.

You glanced up at him. 

“I’m not going to lose you again.” Dean added, squeezing your hand gently. “Not for anything in the world.”

The words felt stuck in your throat, but you glanced at Leo and smiled. “Yeah, we’re staying with Daddy and Uncle Sammy.”

Dean leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips amidst Leo's triumphant yells.

Sam moved forward to press you into a hug. “Welcome home, Y/N.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee!

Character taglists are open, hit me up if you would like to be added!

#dean winchester x reader #resa.fics #dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester oneshot #resa's requests #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #spn oneshot #dad!dean #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n

[doobean]

SMOKE SIGNALS ─ BAROU SHOUEI

𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: Barou seems to have enough of your godawful dating life. What he doesn’t know is that you’ve reached your breaking point, too.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: explicit content ﾉ 18+ ﾉ fem!afab!reader ﾉ friends to lovers ﾉ idiots in love ﾉ roommates AU ﾉ barou centric ﾉ soft love making bc he's a CLB duh ﾉ narration heavy ﾉ kinda mean to reader but it all means well ﾉ first time/virginity loss ﾉ dry humping ﾉ fingering ﾉ missionary ﾉ no beta we die like men wc: 8.5k (longest smut fic i've written thus far whew) a/n: hello friends i am back hehe trying out a new format :3 and also a standalone barou fic because wow i've always paired this guy w nagi sjakhdkajdfh pls give me more hair down barou im begging on my fuckin knees

“Promise me that you won’t get mad,” you peek around the door frame, head poking into Barou’s room.

“The hell did you do this time,” Barou tries to keep his voice casual, red eyes flickering from his computer monitor to your face, then back again. Frankly, he has no idea what you’re possibly referring to, but whenever you’re vague like this, it’s usually not a good thing.

Your brows knit together and you clench the sides of the door. “You gotta promise me, Shouei.”

It has to be something bad, at least in his mind, because you’re trying really hard to look convincing. He can make out the small fidgeting motions by just how hard your knuckles are gripping against the door frame. Barou exhales and pauses, and it’s for a long, rare moment. He’s always the type of guy to say whatever comes to mind, and it’s usually a whole bunch of unfiltered harsh truths and things that others don't want to hear. It’s rare that Barou is actually picking his words carefully and, of course, that catches your attention even more.

“Shouei…”

After a few seconds, Barou manages to narrow the possibilities down to three. 

The first answer being the obvious choice: you’re planning to invite a bunch of your friends over for a last minute party. Your friends are loud, messy, and a bit too friendly towards him despite the numerous times he’s yelled at them. Whatever, he’s used to this by now. Afterall, he’s been living with you at this apartment for well over a year now—four years if he counts the amount of times you’ve crashed at his dorm during his time in high school and university. 

The second outcome might be directly related to the second half: you’re moving out. Could it be a new job opportunity with better pay? Hell, he’s seen you hunched over and obsessively scrolling through multiple job posting sites these past few months that he’s had a feeling that the day will come sooner or later. But it wouldn’t be something that Barou could see himself getting frustrated over.

Which only leads to the third option: you’ve somehow brought home a stray animal and expect him to be okay with it—

“Okay, dude, you’re seriously starting to freak me out.”

Barou snorts and rolls his eyes. “Can’t promise if I don’t know what it is,” and motions at the empty space by the edge of his bed. “Whatever you brought back home, though, it’s a no. You know I have a cat allergy.”

“I wouldn’t bring an animal home without telling you! Plus, that’s such a lie because you had a cat growing up,” you flush brightly and glower. Needless to say, you end up shuffling past the door frame, into full view, and Barou quickly realizes what you’re referring to, and why you’re acting so agitated. 

Breath quickly catches in Barou’s lungs. He averts his gaze, looks back, and clenches his jaw—all in a matter of seconds.

“You’re… dressed up,” he’s pretty sure his face is all contorted, because you’re suddenly acting meek again. 

“Don’t give me that look,” your hands fly up and do a poor job covering your chest and exposed thighs. 

A form fitting dress is the last thing he’d ever imagined you in, then again, you were never the type to actively show off your feminine outfits in front of him—lounging around in nothing but sweats and an oversized tee is a sight he’s more used to—until now. 

“I don’t normally see you wearing stuff like this,” he tries to make the words casual and dismissive, though he’s very aware that he’s just admitted that he pays close attention to you. And, for whatever reason, he has the burning urge to tear himself away, before the tiny voice in his head starts taunting him to go even lower. “Why are you even showing me?”

“Y’know, I had an explanation to give you, but now you sound borderline pissed,” you begin to tip toe back behind the door frame, slowly.

“I always sound borderline pissed,” Barou adds. He’s paused his task at the desk, computer monitor on mute, and the room is exceptionally quiet, except for the low, hesitant creaks from the floor panels. After another moment of studying your face, he exhales and shakes his head. “Let me guess… a date?”

“Oh,” you look momentarily surprised, or maybe that’s just his imagination. You revert back almost immediately though. “How’d you figure it out so quickly?”

If it weren’t for those damn career boosting sites, the second most used apps would be those stupid dating ones. 

Both of your parents work all the time, business partners even, so it’s been mainly the two of you left to your own devices at a young age. Barou didn’t have many friends growing up, outside of you and his sisters, if he can even count them. 

You’re generally introverted by nature, but somehow you seem to attract people who seem to lack common boundaries and have a strange affinity to soccer. Of course, that includes him, your friends, and all the dates you try and bring back—Barou never lets them go past the shoe rack and, thankfully, your dates always seemed too afraid to object. 

Your parents think that it’s a blessing of some sort. That he’s your personal guardian or a shitty guard dog to keep out unwanted men. Something about keeping you safe, another comment about being a good future son-in-law. Conversations with your relatives always tend to steer from topics of career goals, the amount of savings you have, to relationship status, and—ultimately—hey, Shouei’s available, right? Of course, you two don’t have that type of relationship.

Barou is observant, despite what others might think. Observant enough to know that you get uncomfortable when the idea of the two of you being together comes up. You tend to go quiet, then flustered, all before storming off to your own room. Maybe that’s why you spend all your energy into those dating apps—a weird rebellion phase of sorts.

He wants to chastise you, hoping it’ll lead towards you finding another pastime that consists of less unimpressive dicks. Perhaps picking up more books would be well suited for you. Though, upon recent apartment cleanings, he’s stumbled upon plenty of your obscured romance novels. The type of novels that the covers consist of half naked men in cowboy attire with the classic damsel in distress in his arms—Barou doesn’t understand why anyone reads that stuff—piled up all on the living room coffee table.

Scolding you is definitely on top of his to-do list right about now, second to decluttering the fridge. Advising that you can’t blindly trust men on these shitty platforms because god knows what they lie about to get a person’s attention. But he has a feeling that you’ll brush him off, spouting an all too familiar speech that you’ve given him plenty of times before about not being a kid. It’s probably a dumb idea, and he knows that.  

So, instead, he shrugs and ignores the anxious buzzing tugging at the back of his mind. “An educated guess.”

“Oh, hm,” you go quiet at that and he isn’t entirely sure why that makes him nervous. “Do I look weird?”

“What?”

You tilt your head. “You’re staring. Like deep in thought.”

So much for keeping his expression neutral.

“Hmph,” Barou snaps his gaze back to his monitor, observing you from its reflection. 

His awareness of your dress comes in levels of recognition. First is material: even from the distance he’s sitting, he can tell with a quick eye that it’s from some sort of designer brand. The silk fabric clings to your figure as if it was made for you, worshiping every curve and kissing your features perfectly. Second is how you chose to style it: the adjustments made to your chest is purposeful, making your cleavage the centerpiece while your neckline draws attention to it. Third is his own reaction to it: his mind races to the thought of how unfair everything suddenly feels.

“It’s nothing. It’s just—it’s different from the usual, that’s all.” An awkward beat and, “You don’t look weird.”

You lean back on your heels, body now coming back into view, and there’s a small grin. Looking closer, he sees that you’ve got your makeup and nails done, too.

“What? You’re coming at me for relationship advice now?” Barou asks, after a moment. “I’ve got nothing to say.” 

“Your big mouth always has something to say,” you look at him with quirked brows.

He sighs airily. “Who cares, it’s not like you’ll listen,” then rolls his eyes. It’s a bit of an exaggeration, of course, but you’re quite literally one of the most stubborn people he’s ever come across. 

Barou’s familiar with your on and off dating sprees before, and in the beginning he did loosely hand out some advice—even though most of the information came from all those dumb teen magazines he found in his sisters’ rooms. It’s almost like a damn script by how it plays out: obsess over a mediocre guy, go on a date or two, and be extremely disappointed when they don’t live up to your expectations. 

It’s been about three months since your last date, and Barou doesn’t understand how this one might end up any different. 

As if you’ve read his mind, you begin to explain, “We’ve been texting for a few days now. He seems super nice over video call, likes to cook, has a stable job—”

“Hate to break it to you, but that’s the bare minimum.”

“Shouei,” you grumble, “be nice.”

He feels his eyes narrow, lips pressing thin. “You planning to bring him back or something?” Barou can’t seem to mask the edge in his voice.

“If everything goes well, then yeah,” you look relatively proud of yourself. “Which is why I’m asking you to not scare him away—you’re capable of doing that, right?”

“It’s not gonna happen regardless,” the words roll out almost too naturally for both of your comfort, “something always goes wrong, anyways.”

Your lips press thin, weight shifting subtly between your feet. “Don’t be such a dick. I’m bringing a guy back this time.”

Barou doesn’t know what to say. What the fuck can he say? All he knows is that this is making him feel more annoyed than usual. You’ve got to be aware of that, right?

You two have fought before, of course. Nothing ever goes well when it deals with two stubborn individuals. Thankfully, none of the arguments have never escalated past mild inconveniences. Barou can’t seem to remember when’s the last time you’ve actually gotten angry, though. He imagines it being similar to his mom, or sisters, and it’s terrifying because you’re giving him that look—one where you’re a comment away from swatting everything off his desk.

His brows draw together for a moment, eyes squinting, before regaining his ground. He bites back his tongue. “Do what you want.”

“So, I take it that you’re not…?”

Barou scoffs, drumming his fingers against the desk. “Why would I be mad? I’m not in charge of you.”

It’s over a late dinner when Barou finally checks his messages. He sees a few notifications under your name, and he pauses. He doesn’t know why he’s hesitating, there’s a strange churning feeling in his stomach and suddenly he’s lost his appetite. Barou flips his phone down at the table before discarding his utensils, and the look Isagi gives him is a weird one.

“Everything alright there?” 

“I’m not mad.”

Across from him, Isagi leans against the kitchen counter and laughs. “Didn’t say you were,” he picks at his dinner plate with a tilted head. “So, erm, why did you call me over here again? Something about a problem…? You still haven’t gotten to that part.”

“Everything’s fine. I’m fine. Not a damn problem around in this shithole. Fucking perfect around here,” he’s suddenly hot with anger.

Isagi replies to this with a vague handwave. “If I had to guess, someone’s out on a date, again, and you haven’t done much about it.”

Barou shoots him a scathing glare. Thinks of denying for a moment. Doesn’t. “Why bother asking if you already knew?”

Like him, Isagi is oddly extremely aware of everything and everyone. On and off the playing field. Which probably explains why he’s both the coach and fan favorite of the bunch. And more of a reason why Barou is stuck third in line for most sponsorships, right behind Itoshi Rin. Well, whatever, he was never a people’s pleaser to begin with. Though, it is nice having him around to vent to—if you count offering to cook dinner in tense silence while going over sporting logistics—because Isagi Yoichi doesn’t judge. Unless your name is Kaiser, then that’s a whole different story.

A shrug. “Wanted to hear it from you, though that might’ve taken all night.” It’s not a tease.

No matter how rough and rugged Barou looks, he can’t wipe the knowing smile off of Isagi’s features.

“So,” Isagi continues, “how long before you miss out on your chance? A few months? Days? Right now?”

He lowers the volume on the TV and shoves another bite in. “Most likely never. If anything goes down south, that’ll be on me.”

“You’re thinking about this carefully,” Isagi observes, earning him another annoyed look. “It’s a good thing—you’re usually, uh, headstrong and tenacious most of the time.” It’s kinda a compliment, Barou thinks.

“We live together,” he emphasizes, “that’s different.”

“For how long, though? At this point it feels like you’re doing this to yourself.” The corners of Isagi’s lip raise, just a little. “Have you tried seeing if she likes you back?”

Barou scowls and absently fiddles with his hair, still a bit damp from the shower earlier. “What’s with that question? If I knew then I wouldn’t be inviting you over here, dumbass.”

A beat or two. He stares at the wall for a moment and cracks.

“If she liked me back then I doubt she’d be out right now with some random guy,” Barou hates how whiny his voice sounds. He’s not the type to openly complain, especially not with his feelings like this. With Isagi, however, it seems like he brings that side out of everyone. What a weirdo. 

The younger male simply smiles. “Maybe look into her dating history, you might be able to figure out some patterns.”

 “Like I’m some sort of masochist.”

“Well, you’re currently spending your Saturday evening watching football highlights with me, and I think that’s telling by itself.”

Barou doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t bother to say anything to that. He just shoves a spoonful of rice in his mouth and half-distractedly finishes watching a previous games’ highlight on the TV. A quarter way through, and he feels himself starting to drift off.

Isagi’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and that’s a surprising relief to Barou. The younger male lets out a small noise, sets his empty plate in the sink, letting water and soap soak it up for a bit, and fishes his phone out. A few seconds and he starts making his way towards the door, gym bag in hand.

“Rin’s asking to see me for something,” he mindlessly explains while slipping on his shoes. “Guess I’m gonna have to pass on keeping you company tonight, bud.” Isagi says this with a bit of playfulness, but he shoots him a look of sympathy when his hand reaches the knob.

It makes Barou flinch, badly. “Go home, dumbass.”

Once Isagi leaves the premises, he goes back to his own devices. Watching sporting highlights soon went stale, so he opted to watch a drama that you’ve been raving about a while back. 

It has an interesting start. The main lead somehow paraglides her way into a foreign country and the tall, handsome, and stoic—your words, not his—military officer has to take care of her.

He remembers, when you first discovered the drama, the main actor was all you could talk about. Sure, he’s your typical standard silent, tough guy trope, but you were especially smitten over him.

“The way he looks after her, the yearning and the need, it’s just—” you would wave your body back and forth, at a loss for words.

The ending credits snaps him out of the small lull and, out of curiosity, Barou browses through his social apps and thumbs your handle into the search bar. You guys are mutual friends, so this shouldn’t feel weird. Though, if he’s being honest with himself, he really, really doesn’t care much for what other people do in their spare time. Looking at his own account, there’s only two posts and both of them are cringey gym mirror selfies from several years ago. 

So Barou doesn’t really know what to expect when he looks through your recent story highlights.

There’s a picture of a fancy looking latte with an equally fancy looking cheese foam design on top. The guy’s out of the frame, but he can make out an arm with a decked out watch in the corner. Another picture and this time it features a set of flaky chocolate pastries on a square plate with red sauce paired on the side. The third picture makes Barou pause, because it’s a selfie of you and some guy. From appearance alone, the guy is conventionally attractive, but he also has an extremely punchable face. White collared button up shirt, except for the plain fact that it’s wild open and his damn chest hairs are poking out. He’s got his hands around your waist, his stubbled chin pressed extremely close to yours, looking into the camera as if you belonged to him.

He feels his head throbbing, almost full of cotton, and he shuts his phone off, tossing it onto the far end of the couch. Barou doesn’t bother to clean the dishes, at least not yet. He sets his dirty plate aside, letting it soak in the sink alongside with the other bowls. It’s not until after another hot, long shower that Barou starts stress cleaning the apartment. 

And, yeah, vacuuming the living room and running the loud dishwasher at nearly midnight is pretty outrageous and, frankly, dramatic—even for someone like him. By the time he’s done destressing, the air wafts with lemon essential oils and a hint of antiseptic scent. Eventually, after everything, he crawls under the blankets and lies still for a long time before the hint of sleep catches up.

It’s one in the morning when he hears you coming home; heels wobbling against the wooden panels, faint mumbling with a drawl, and sounds of keys hitting the small trinket bowl by the front door. He thinks maybe he should go see you, but stops himself halfway. Barou doesn’t know what he’ll do, how he’ll react, if you come back with smeared lipstick stains on your face, or if you smell like musk— like some stupid, rich casanova’s cologne.

Barou’s just about to pull the covers back over his head when a noise from the living room jolts him wide awake. A loud clatter, body hitting a surface, and he snaps his attention away. And, luckily for him, you just smelled like straight alcohol.

“I should’ve never gone out, I should’ve just…” A beat, followed by a series of painful groans.

You’re definitely tipsy from whatever drink that’s in your system. From what Barou can tell, it was strong. 

“Did you take anything else?” It’s a rhetorical question but he keeps his voice quiet, low, and observes you from the couch.

You’re half slumped over, limbs hanging all over the place and your trench coat is doing an awful job at covering up your promiscuous dress. Tired exhaustion plagues all over. Barou quickly covers you with a spare throw blanket on the side.

He tries to get you off the couch, as carefully as he can, and you nearly jump out of your skin from the proximity. Your eyes are glazed, mouth slightly dry and slack, and some of your makeup has smudged—whether it’s from the date or the excessive tossing and turning, Barou doesn’t really want to know. What he does know is that you’re close, now actively leaning into his touch, and your eyes meet, and he’s yet again faced with that strange fire rushing through him.

He swears under his breath, lifting you into his arms.

There’s a million things he wants to say, majority of them being half-ass insults and I told you so, but none of that seems appropriate. His face is only inches away from yours. Barou quickly realizes that his mouth has gone dry and his tongue feels heavy. His recent reactions towards you have been… confusing, to say the least.

You stir, hand shooting up to hold your head. “Is he gone?”

“Your shitty date?”

“Mhm,” your head droops to the side. “That asshole…”

He scoffs, and makes a mental note to personally beat up the guy who left you while you’re like this. “He’s not here.”

“Fuck, thank god,” your eyes hover on his neck. It catches him off-guard. You swallow, and a strange expression flicks across your face, a bit unreadable and different from your usual wasted self. “You were right, sorry.”

For a moment, he thinks he’s in a dream; that he’s still in university, still checking up on you in-between his classes and labs—out of courtesy from your family, and being on the receiving end whenever you get your hopes up. 

He shuts his eyes and opens them. 

“Let’s get you to bed.”

Barou hears every heavy thump that his heart makes as he carries you to your room. His eyes keep shifting all over your body, whether he means to or not. Most of it is out of concern, your face looks terribly dazed and you’re warm all over, even if you keep insisting that it was just one drink. You’ve never been a heavy drinker, no matter how many times you tried to train your lack of alcohol tolerance. He wonders if he should let you sleep in what you’re currently wearing but, after quick consideration, you’d probably feel extremely uncomfortable the next day.

You press into the warmth of his shoulder, against his neck, then exhale. “I’m a pretty shitty friend, aren’t I?”

“What?” Barou’s eyes flick down the hall, then back to you.

“Ugh,” you make a face. “You know what I mean. How I’m always so tunnel vision when it comes to shit like this…”

“Then just stop,” he feels his face tightening ever so slightly, the unfiltered words unclogging. “Everytime this happens. Why bother going through with it?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” You laugh a little, and it’s half bitterness, half joy—something a little broken and somehow Barou immediately understands.

He watches, almost morbidly, the way your eyes subtly linger on parts of his body for a moment, before sighing. A hesitant, unspoken conversation stuck in your throat, and all at once, Barou wants to scream. 

But he doesn’t.

He feels flames crawling up the back of his neck when you snuggle closer into his arms. Thankfully, before he can further combust, he’s pushing his way into your dimmed bedroom. 

Barou takes a careful glance around in the dark, noting the familiar scent of you, the numerous prints that hang from the eggshell colored walls, and the small pile of clothes on your desk chair. He’s only been in your room once before, but that was just to help you settle in, so he’s never really paid attention to your surroundings. Now, though, as he lays you on top of the mattress, he notices everything in this room just screams who you are, and he realizes that maybe he should’ve said his piece earlier to avoid all of this together.

The idea fizzles out when Barou feels you tugging loosely on his wrist before letting it fall against the mattress.

“Shouei,” you call out, reaching for his hand again.

He absolutely hates the way he instantly stops and holds you, cherishing the warmth of your skin. Your fingers shakily curl around his, and Barou can’t help but squeeze back. His heart is thundering against his chest, and he’s making it painfully obvious that his breathing is erratic. 

After a moment, he clears his throat. “What are you doing?” 

His blood has rushed so high to his head that it’s the only thing he can hear, clogging up in his veins and leaving him feeling like he has to cling onto you for dear life. Barou isn’t quite sure what’s happening here, still disbelieving at the way you’re batting your eyes at him, eyes brimming with tears and lips puckered.

“Stay with me, please,” you mumble.

Barou lets out an airy breath, and hears himself saying your name. He’s so confused by all the fucking emotions hitting him right now, and it doesn’t help the fact that his voice gets so soft and tender when he calls out for you. His hand twitches against yours.

This isn’t fair, this isn’t fair, this isn’t—

“You’re drunk,” he finally manages to respond.

His crimson eyes trace your face in the dark, and makes out the shine of wetness on your lips when they part. You lift your eyes, and they instantly hook him in. He resists the urge to lean forward. And, just as instantly, he wants to kneel down, close his eyes, and exist anywhere but this moment.

“I’m not,” you continue and tug him closer, forcing him to sit on the mattress. Your words come out more as hot breath. He definitely smells it but, if he’s being honest with himself, you’re usually not this desperate.

Needless to say, it’s still a concerning fact. “You’re not yourself.”

You squeeze harder, brows furrowed. “I know what I’m doing and what I want.”

Barou tears away from your mouth and glances back into your eyes, studying them closely. You’re still clamped onto his hand, and he knows you’re burning on edge, too. Undoubtedly, he’s half-mast in his pants, and he’s very aware of that, as you slowly rise up, eyeing him with an expression that can only be described as hunger. 

“We’ll talk in the morning, idiot.”

“What’s your deal?”

I should be the one asking that. 

Barou stares at you for a long moment, The silence is heavy, suffocating. The bed shifts, and in that second, that quiet desperate hope, becomes even more evident. His grip tightens, just a little, and there’s that building headache pulsing through his temple. He really shouldn’t be here, entertaining whatever this is. What he should be doing is sleeping, it’s midnight and, fuck, he has to go to practice tomorrow, but you…

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I am,” his voice is rough when he answers, words dripping with heavy caution. “Even if you aren’t wasted, you’re acting like a real piece of work, right now. None of this shit is funny.”

“I’m not trying to be—I’m being serious,” you reply, but your lips are trembling.

Barou’s stomach lurches and he swallows back a groan, not the pleasure kind. “What do you want me to do?”

Suddenly, you shift restlessly, as if taken aback. “Stay by my side.”

“I know that,” he breathes in, and out. “I asked if there’s anything you want me to do?”

The moonlight creeps past your curtains and coats you in various shades of silver. It’s then, Barou realizes, that he's afraid of what your answer might be. He’s taken care of you hundreds of times before, it’s become second nature for him to look after you, but now this feels foreign—almost daunting when you’re looking just as scared. 

But, scared as you are, you lean forward, steadying your palms onto his broad shoulders. It burns his skin at contact, but he steels himself, watching your lips part slowly. Focusing—absolutely fucking focusing—on the way that they move and the damn syllables that come right after.

He feels like dying when the words finally register.

“Kiss me.”

Barou stills, pressing a palm against the mattress and clenches his jaw, running his tongue hard against his teeth. He opens his mouth to reply—and immediately snaps it shut. It’s when you make a small dip in the bed that he recovers, gears running over a hundred miles an hour in his mind. “You want that?”

“Don’t make me repeat it,” your eyes wander all over his face and the intensity almost burns his skin. “It’s embarrassing enough that I’m doing it like this…”

Barou stares in awe. His throat feels tight and his chest clenches uncomfortably. “Doing what?”

A frown erupts on your face and you’re visibly frustrated, more flustered. “Why are you choosing tonight to be a dense prick? Do you need me to spell it out for you? I’m confessing to you. I like you—god, this is so fucking stupid—I’ve liked you since grade school, throughout college, and now! The dates, the guys, none of them work out because they’re not you. Do you know how many times a guy is saying some shit and I’m sitting there thinking ‘Shouei wouldn’t say that’ or when I’m trying to find a guy that looks kinda like you, and even that’s fucking impossible—that’s how much you’re on my mind!”

Your confession—honesty—hangs in the air and Barou nearly chokes on it. You make a low, undignified sound, and press your back against the headboard, looking absolutely anywhere but him. Barou, on the other hand, hears nothing but pounding in his eardrums. He’s not sure if that’s his heartbeat, or yours. There’s a feeling of tight strings tugging at his chest again, a painful ache being left behind. After a moment, the bed creaks. 

“Okay,” he breathes, and swallows around that awful lump in his throat.

“Okay?” your voice cracks embarrassingly. “I pour out my feelings and all you say is ‘okay’? This is worse than a rejection. Yoichi said the worst thing you could say is ‘no’ and—”

“Wait, that idiot knows about this?”

 “That’s what you’re focused on? Ugh, forget it, I’ve said too much already!”

“Stop,” Barou’s face contorts into a heavy scowl, taking slight offense. “God, sometimes you ramble on so much that it’s hard to take everything at face value.” 

He hesitantly presses a palm to your cheek and holds it there, watching your sudden stiff reaction. He shudders, slowly, before dusting the palm across your cheek, ears, hair, and settles it against the back of your head. He’s aware of his breathing, shaky and full of nerves. Barou moves closer until he can feel your breath fanning over his lips. 

Before he can say anything else, you lean up and press your lips softly against his. They’re surprisingly soft, he realizes. There’s no heat to it, just a plush press of warmth, a little bit of pressure, and you’re silently swearing under your breath when you pull back. 

“Oh god, was that dumb? Am I being stupid right now or what?” Your hands fly up, cradling your face. A muffled scream, then a groan. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what I was thinking! You—me, we were—argh!” Your body retracts back, knee pressing up against your chest as you begin to lean away from him, almost in disgust with yourself.

Barou begins to feel a strange surge in his stomach and gnaws the insides of his cheek. The unusual warmth comes back and, this time, it settles between his legs, but there’s more to that. It was a small, soft kiss—barely long enough to be classified as one. He watches you fidget more before snapping.

“Do you know how to fucking relax?” Barou adjusts his grip behind your head, tangles his fingers in your hair, and drags you back in for another.

This time, it’s lasting, a more proper kiss, and he feels you getting lost in it. Your hands fumble their way back onto his body, finding ground on his thighs and leaning forward into the heat. Barou makes sure that his grip in your hair isn’t too tight, but warm and full of affection, and it makes you moan quietly, mouth parting and allowing his tongue to swipe over your lips.

Hardly any words are exchanged while he kisses you, slowly becoming more frenzied, drowning in the wet heat, tongues curling and hands roaming. There’s a steady, painful throbbing eagerness between Barou’s legs, and he’s positive that you can feel it. 

It’s overwhelmingly awkward and stupid, how worked up you both are from just a bit of kissing; from taking turns ghosting each other’s jaws and necks, to hands blindly groping and snaking under clothing to get a squeeze at bare skin. You lean up again, lips tracing the contours of his jaw, and shift a hand down, curling your fingers through his sweats and around his length. A light, breathy noise slips out of him and he feels you pulling away, eyes half-lidded, lips swollen from the heavy makeout session.

“I, um, take it that you like me back…?” You ask quietly, tugging Barou out of his trance. 

He blinks, feeling the tips of his ears flushing with warmth. “You really know how to ruin the mood, don’t you?”

“I-I just need confirmation, stupid!”

“Maybe,” Barou confesses, his voice wavers just a little as he speaks. His body shifts with you in his arms, palms cupping both sides of your face. When you refuse to meet his eyes, he huffs. “Look at me. I wouldn’t do this to just anyone if I didn’t like them.”

You make a low, unpleasant noise. “So, you’ve done this with others? I don’t want to think about that.”

Barou’s chest tangles over itself again and, for a moment, being with you feels just a little less daunting. His posture stiffens, then goes lax in a quick second. He could honestly ask you the same thing, whether or not some of the men you’ve matched with have showered you in affection like this but, given your behavior, it seems like you’ve been hesitant and selective. If Barou’s being honest, he’s glad it’s that way. 

“Then we don’t have to,” he surges forward, forcing his head down to catch your gaze before capturing your lips in surprise once more.

Eventually, he ends up hovering over you. You’re lying on the mattress, head semi-propped up against the pillows with half of his body weight on top of you—not too heavy, but not too comfortable. Barou’s vaguely aware of what this might lead to, with the look you’re giving him—with the look he’s giving you. He should really go to bed, or else he’s going to wake up with a migraine and a sore neck. But your cheek is nuzzled against his palm, he’s got his other hand running through your hair, soft and lazy, and he’s finding himself grinding against your lower half almost pathetically.

It’s impossible to put his thoughts into coherent sounds when your fingers work at his pants and manage to free his erection, springing it heavily against his stomach. Barou’s mind short-circuits, body jerking in reaction, with the slow, experimental pump of your fist around his aching cock. The look you’re currently giving him is mesmerizing, and it makes him feel as if he’s the most powerful person in the world.

He’s not sure how far you’re willing to go, especially since this feels like your first for everything. You adjust your hand around his length and let it run for a few more strokes. It feels foreign and electric at the same time, softer than his own hands that’s for sure. After you brush your thumb over his tip, smearing the pre, Barou immediately tries shielding himself from you, face buried in his shoulder, and swallows back a rumbling moan.

You pause, hand loosely wrapped around his base, frowning. “Is it bad? I’ll stop if…”

“No,” Barou clasps a hand over yours, squeezes, and sets a slow, firm pace. He shudders again when you adjust your position, hot breath fanning over his tip. “You don’t have to go down—”

“I want to,” you look at him with pleading eyes. “I want to make you feel good, Shouei.”

His mind goes through a whirlwind of possibilities, debating the urge to either run or dominate. Barou closes his eyes, breathing deeply in order to steady himself before he fully loses it. His cock twitches and your hand is clinging around him like a mold.

“Please,” you moan, a plea that’s both an invitation and a surrender, and it’s that damn voice that cuts through his brain fog.

You make a small noise of confusion when he pulls you back, and settles you flat against the mattress. Disappointment flicks across your face but disappears as quickly as it came when his palms make contact with your legs. He carefully watches you squirm, thighs pressing together, when he starts hiking up the dress past your waist and eventually off your body.

Barou sucks in his teeth, eyes drinking in your shy figure underneath him as he stares at your heaving chest, stomach, and plump thighs. He swears under his breath, hesitating for just a moment, before slipping a hand lower, past the barrier of your panties. 

A strangled moan catches in his throat as he discovers the slick heat from your arousal, thick fingers pressing gently at the entrance. Your face casts a wild, bewildered look and you throw your head back, hand covering the lower half of your face.

“D-Don’t tease me…”

Barou clicks against his teeth. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Almost entranced, he stares at your slick center, folds glistensing and your clit practically pulsing with need. His fingers tremble, exploring with hesitance born from innocence. The warmth between your thighs is new, intoxicating, and downright terrifying. With each careful, slow, tentative touch, the sound of his name spilling from your lips is like a sacred plea and it ignites a spark within him.

He can’t wait any longer. 

Barou groans as he rubs his padded fingers in between your dewy folds and slides in, a tight and perfect fit that draws a gasp from both parties. Your walls flutter around him almost instantaneously, paired by high pitched mews rolling off your tongue. He watches your knuckles fist the sheets as he starts his slow, stretching movements.

Your body squirms under his onslaught, thighs threatening to press closer from the sensitivity but he settles a firm grip on one of them. The sight of you under him, vulnerable and consuming, with hot tears springing out of the corners of your eyes, drives him over the edge. His fingers pick up speed inside, soon turning relentless, scissoring your gummy walls at a pace that you struggle to keep your volume low. Barou watches you throw a hand over your mouth when his thumb starts rolling over your clit in slow but purposeful circles. The scent of sex drenches him, listening to you mew and beg, his heavy cock leaking all over your thigh when you begin to raise your hips.

“Shouei,” you moan out, skin glistening and wet, flushed from the heat. Your fingers grasp sloppily against his biceps, sending shivers down his arms. “I want to take care of you, too.”

He spreads your legs even further out, applying more pressure to your core. Seeing the sight of you buckling your hips, grinding so shamelessly down on his fingers, brings him more pleasure than it should. Hearing the sighs and whines you babble out tells him everything he needs to know.

Barou raises his lips to your temple as he picks up the pace, groaning from the lewd sounds below. “Finish for me first, I don’t like owing favors,” he starts kissing your throat, tongue tracing over your sweet spots as your walls start fluttering around his digits.

Your hands land on his biceps, clutching his body as close to yours as possible while you calm down from the rush, unable to stop the way you're wailing his name right into his ear. It isn’t until Barou releases his fingers that he realizes that his sweats are now soaked from your orgasm.

“I'm sorry...” You sharply turn your head away, pleasure quickly replaced by embarrassment.

Barou carefully brushes the hair out of your eyes and captures your lips in a sweet and tentative kiss. “Was gonna get rid of them anyway.”

"Oh," you breathe out, unable to form a more suitable response.

He gets up from the mattress and manages to free himself from the remainder of his clothes. Normally, he would toss them in a hamper, but tonight he’s kicking them to the side. Mild anxiousness and anticipation claws at his throat when he formally settles between your legs and, this time, your hands are back to poorly covering up your bare, flushed out body.

Barou furrows his brows and gently pulls them aside, already reading your thoughts. “Stop, you don’t look weird.”

“But—”

He bends down, hands kneading on the flesh of your breasts while his mouth latches onto the side of your neck. You struggle to keep your voice down and squirm under his touch, again. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

It’s like he can almost see all the blood rushing towards your head when he pulls back. You’re nodding, shaking and quivering, and he can practically hear your heartbeat over his own.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” Barou’s amazed that he’s able to keep it together, that his voice is even, because your fingers are slowly guiding his cock towards your entrance.

He’s had a girlfriend in the past, though the intimacy has never gone past making out. He has a faint idea of how it should feel and what he should do, but all that thought gets thrown out when his tip presses softly against your wet folds. Everything starts to feel unbearingly hot and tight.

“I trust you,” you sharply inhale when the first few inches slide into the soft, heated space, and spread your legs wider. You shift against the mattress, a hand splaying on his chest while the other is fisting the sheets. “I trust you more than I trust myself, Shouei.”

He hisses in response to that, adjusting his length, and cranes his head back so he can avoid releasing everything right then and there. You bite back a loud moan as soon as he bottoms you out, your nails digging and leaving half crescent marks into his chest at the stretch. 

“Shit—you’re so warm,” he steadies his breathing, and reaches out a hand, caressing your flushed cheeks. He carefully dives in to kiss your lips and then your throat, biting until he nearly breaks skin.

You shudder beneath him, responding with a noise that’s in between a moan and a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re going to cum already?”

Barou ignores your taunting and scrapes his teeth along the ridge of your throat until he finds your earlobe, basking in the way you’re squeezing around him. “How you do want me to fuck you?”

Silence takes over as your answer, eyes widening at his response. A small thrust and he watches you wince from the stretch. Barou slows down his movements, pulling all the way out before sliding back into the hilt. Shocks of pleasure surges through his veins, and his throat rumbles with every tight pulse your velvety walls offer him, holding your hips steady as he builds up the rhythm. 

Your moans and gasps send shivers down his whole body, arching your back as he finds the furthest point. Your grip on his chest tightens, fingers grasping, nails breaking the skin. Though, the pain is nothing compared to the binding pleasure Barou feels being buried deep around your enveloping, addicting warmth. His brain melts into a puddle, every nerve in his system heightens to a new level as you’re tightening around him.

You raise your hips higher, opening yourself and deepening the angle that he can thrust his way through. Barou’s browline pools in a thin veil of sweat as he works his way through it all, staring down at you in a silent, consumed gaze. He presses his hips forward and manages to find the spot that makes you violent and wild. The sound of his name shatters the air and you throw your head back, bliss screeching through both of your veins.

"Shouei, it’s too much," you cry out.

Barou sucks in his teeth, fingers pressing hard into your flesh. “Just breathe, you’re okay.” 

He watches your eyes widen with a shaky nod. Your chest rises and falls, eyes frantically darting from the area between your legs up to his face in an attempt to calm yourself.

“I-I know, I know,” you respond, choked out and breathless.

Any consideration for neighboring guests in the complexes are abandoned as Barou pumps into you, his core tightening as every thrust brings him closer. Your walls and arousal coat around his cock with eagerness, as if afraid to let him go.

At the sight of you, teary-eyed and a babbling mess, Barou leans down and his mouth captures yours in another searing kiss that mutes your sounds. Your fingers shoot up, tangling in the mess of his long, black locks, pulling him closer until there’s no space left—until he feels nothing but wet skin and sheer desperation.

He buries his face in your neck, his hot breaths and pants tickling your skin as he senses the incoming orgasm. Barou shuts his eyes and lets his concentration break, mind fully focusing on the feeling of you swallowing him as he works his cock deep inside of you as he could go. All he can think about is how warm and tight everything feels, the sounds you’re making, how much he loves hearing you, and how long he’s been waiting for this moment. Now, with your cries of passion filling the room, back arched in a way he can't even fully describe, it’s more than he can handle, more than he can believe.

Your walls clench violently around him, one hand flying up and tugging at his hair so hard that it stings. But he’ll take it, Barou will endure all the pain and hunger from you knowing you’re cumming hard on his cock. He lets the pain ebb away, turning into waves of ecstasy. Your name falls from his lips and fills the dark room.

Barou bites back a moan and chews his lower lip, head nuzzled deep into your shoulder blade and hips stuttering as his vision goes blurry. Pleasure overtakes him, both immense pressure and the immediate release of it exploding in his skull, and he ends up gasping for air, legs jerking and body trembling as he releases inside of you.

He holds you tightly, rocking your body and panting against your warm skin as both of you try to catch your individual breaths as the aftershocks settle through. Everything stills, all that’s left are the low hums of the air conditioner and your frantic heartbeats. Barou isn’t sure how much time has passed when he finally feels his length go limp. Gently, he slips out and catches the way you moan in disapproval at the feeling of sudden emptiness. 

He raises his head and meets your eyes, finding yours wet and half-lidded, completely fucked over. Lifting a thumb to wipe away the threatening tear, he rolls off and settles upright by the edge of the bed. The darkness strains his eyes, but he manages to find what he’s looking for. A few moments later and he hands you a few tissues from the bedside table and cranes his body.

“Are you okay?” Barou’s cautious of the volume of his voice, as if raising it an octave higher would break you even further.

Your breath hitches, wincing and moving meticulously to avoid spilling out all the contents on the sheets. “I think I am?”

“You sound unsure.”

“Well,” you prop up next to him, body curling tight together like a coil, head nudging against his bare shoulder. “We just had sex.” 

The word almost slaps him in the face, making him sit up even straighter.

“We… did,” he said, slowly, and now feeling a certain way that he isn’t sure how to describe. Comfortable isn’t the right word, but it’s not exactly uneasy either. But that’s another step to think about, one that he probably won’t take today. He pauses for a moment, tongue heavy in his mouth, but pushes through and ignores the fretting in the back of his mind. “Do… Do you regret it?”

“No,” and you’re quick with it, despite avoiding eye contact. Instead, you curl your fingers around his bicep and squeeze hard. After a pregnant pause, you throw back the question. “How ‘bout you?”

“I don’t,” Barou finds himself equally as responsive, and he’s sure about a lot of things. 

He’s sure he’s going to wake up tired and sore, but definitely is still going to out perform his other teammates tomorrow. He’s sure that one day he’ll surpass Isagi. And he’s sure that he wants to be here, with you. You two are best friends and… what, girlfriend and boyfriend now? It’s a crazy thought, but it has his heart fluttering like some dumb teenage romcom. 

You simply nod, humming in deep thought, before reaching over and pulling him in for another kiss, and this time, it’s soft and delicate. Fragile, slow, and it has Barou clenching around the edge of the mattress. You’re both making quiet sounds, and he wants to keep going, but he can’t quite subdue that little bubbling jolt of fear in his head. And, because you’re stupidly observant at the strangest times, you pull back.

“We should… probably talk about this, right?”

“We should,” he agrees but, as soon as he glances at the time, exhaustion hits him like a freight train. Barou shudders and he allows gravity to take over, collapsing back onto the cold, wet mattress.

“Hey,” you shake him, enough to rouse some of the tiredness away. “Don’t crash here tonight, everything’s covered in sweat.”

He scoffs and turns over, relishing in the mild comfort. “You’re starting to sound exactly like me.”

“C’mon, Shouei,” he can’t exactly see you from this angle, but he imagines a big pout plastered over your face. “I mean it, let’s sleep in your room. This is like a sex bed…”

“Don’t call it that,” Barou cringes. 

“I mean, technically it is. Y’know, couples get twin beds in hotel rooms all the time for that purpose and—”

“If we move to my room, will you promise me that you’ll be quiet and get some sleep?” Barou can slowly feel bags forming under his eyes.

Your weight shifts above him and you make a small noise of approval. “Sure, but no promises.”

© 2023 DOOBEAN. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.

#doobean writes #bllk #blue lock #bllk smut #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x female reader #bllk x female reader #barou shoei smut #barou shoei x reader #barou shouei #barou smut #barou x reader

[icarryitin]

Candles

spencer reid/gn!reader

happy 26th anniversary of my escape from the womb, as a celebration pls enjoy this lil smth smth while i spend the evening eating a whole cake by myself🧡

masterlist

word count: 1.3k // warnings: zero just vibes, also glasses reid comes with his own warning🫡

It’s been a mission and a half, keeping it all under wraps. Penelope’s been the worst, but you managed to convince her not to put a reminder on everyone’s calendar - a new sparkly unicorn friend for her desk collection was enough to satiate her. For this year, at least.

Birthdays aren’t what they used to be.

They used to be a month long affair, sparkly and exciting. Now it’s just a day. You might get a couple of cards from a couple of family members, you might treat yourself to a takeout so you don’t have to cook, you might watch your favourite movie. It’s nothing special anymore, but you don’t mind that. It’s just a part of growing up.

Which is exactly why you’d expressly forbidden Garcia from organising any kind of celebration when she’d cornered you in the elevator about it last week. You’re still a relatively shiny new toy in the BAU, and being the centre of attention isn’t one of your strong suits anymore. You’re happy to let it pass largely unnoticed by your colleagues. She can do something next year, for sure, when you’re settled in properly. Provided there are no cases that demand attention.

Your back still aches from the flight back yesterday evening, nobody ever said sleeping sitting up is good for you. But, thankfully, it means that everyone’s been too swamped in paperwork today to have noticed Penelope’s extremely subtle efforts to make the day a little easier for you. Her way of celebrating, you were never going to get away that easily. A coffee this morning, a muffin from the café when she came back from her lunch break, she’d even called you into The Lair to present you with a card. Secretly, of course, so as not to arouse suspicion. It’s tucked away in your bag now, safe and sound. Glitter and all.

“Goodnight, my loves.” She appears in your field of vision, blonde head bobbling over the divider between your desk and Morgan’s.

You raise your hand to wave, but the occupant of the desk to your right is far too engrossed in the file to notice. It’s just the three of you left in the office - Penelope, you, and Spencer. Even Hotch has gone, armed with a stack of case files and a furrowed brow.

“See you in the morning, P.” It doesn’t take a lot of effort to return her smile, however tired you might be. That’s the thing about Penelope Garcia, you’ve learned, her energy is kind of infectious. She totters over to your desk with a sly look over at Reid, who still doesn’t appear to be paying any attention.

“Happy Birthday.” She whispers, throwing you an exaggerated wink. Okay, maybe you feel a little bit guilty about depriving her of the celebration she wanted to give you.

And then she’s off, and it’s just you and Reid and the occasional quiet tapping of keyboards, the sifting of papers.

You’ve been absorbed by a file, checking and double checking your additions to the report are accurate, so you don’t really pay Reid any mind when he wanders off towards the kitchen. Your red pen is out, scribbling on an extra copy of the notes. The Unsub on this case had been crafty, but not crafty enough, and your confidence is growing with the handful of takedowns now under your belt. It’s nice to feel like you’re contributing to the team’s success - it’s still your rookie year, but your handcuffs are a little less shiny than they were. You’re about to start typing up your amendments when there’s a noise behind you, like someone clearing their throat. They do it again, a little louder, a little less unsure. It’s unexpected to say the least, the image you’re presented with when you turn in your chair.

Doctor Spencer Reid - adjacent desk mate, awkward stakeout buddy, bespectacled distraction - is holding a small plate out to you, one single cupcake in the centre. There’s a birthday candle stuck in the chocolate swirled icing, just the one, tiny flame wobbling away in the air conditioning. He looks nervous, but there’s a glint in his eye hiding behind his glasses. You wonder what kind of threats Penelope made to get him to do this.

“Garcia said you didn’t want a fuss,” He starts rambling, “So, I figured I would wait until there were less people around and - well, it looks like it’s just us now.”

You’re fumbling for something to say, anything.

“This was - yeah, this was a bad idea, wasn’t it? You didn’t want a fuss and I did this and now you-“

“It’s okay.” You say, finally finding your voice. Matching smiles start to grow, slowly, and the lingering awkwardness evaporates.

It’s hard not to play up the childish wonder of it all - even in the beige and navy confines of the BAU office. Reid still holds the cupcake out towards you as you squeeze your eyes shut, nose wrinkled. Making a wish. You’re not really sure what it is you’re wishing for, maybe it’s that you’ll settle in with the team for the long term, maybe it’s that you’ll catch every bad guy until there’s none left, maybe it’s that a certain teammate will keep looking at you with those big old eyes and a hint of a smile on his face. Whatever it is, it’s good enough, and you open your eyes slowly. Leaning forward, one small puff of breath extinguishes the little candle. Birthday ritual complete. You’re sure Reid has a fun fact about the history of birthday celebrations and the burning of foodstuffs, but you don’t ask just yet. He’s still holding the plate out to you.

“Split it with me?”

His answering grin is contagious, you’ve no choice but to return it as he turns on his heel to hunt down a knife from the kitchen.

“And since it’s just the two of us,” He chatters on his way back from the kitchen, a second plate and butter knife in tow, “I won’t even make you wear the birthday hat.”

There’s a birthday hat, good lord. You’re glad you managed to hold Penelope off for one year, even if it’s the only one she’ll let you have.

“You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“There’s always next year.” Reid is grinning into his half of the cupcake, deliberately not watching you process the fact that you will absolutely be wearing the birthday hat this time next year. But it’s surprisingly heartwarming to hear that he thinks you’ll be with the team for your next birthday. Not that you don’t expect to be, but having confirmation that the others believe it too makes you feel a little fuzzy.

“At least I caught Garcia before she organised a street party, a card and a cupcake do me just fine.” Your words are muffled around the mouthful of cake and icing.

“Oh, she didn’t do this.”

You don’t follow. That much must be clear on your face, because he presses on.

“I made a batch, but then Penelope said you wanted low-key. So I only brought one.”

He made it?

He made it. For you.

If he wasn’t hurtling towards inappropriate crush territory already, he sure is now.

“Thank you, Spencer.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that it’s the first time you use his name. Not Doctor, not Reid, just Spencer. He’s noticed too, if the blush steadily creeping up his cheeks is anything to go by. But you don’t want him to steam up his glasses, and you definitely don’t want to dig yourself in any deeper - so you ask him about birthday candles, an answer he’s more than happy to provide between the last mouthfuls of cupcake and remaining file reports.

Maybe the work birthday thing isn’t so bad, you’ll just have to find that hat before next year.

the canyouniverse is back with a vengeance baybieeee 🧡🧡 i’m love them sm (and you!! for reading!!!)

#featuring bestie penelope garcia!!!! for no other reason than i adore her!!!! #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #lou writes #the canyouniverse

[gguk-n]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (LANDO NORRIS X Y/N)

I did a poll yesterday and I had asked which driver I should write an smau with us Sabrina Carpenter's Please please please. Lando won, so here is the smau. I hope you guys enjoy it more than I enjoyed making it!! (I used Sabrina Carpenter mostly, except a few places where I got the pictures from pinterest)

Y/N.Y/L/N

Tagged Y/BFF/user and McLaren

Liked by McLaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 4,657,982 others Y/N.Y/L/N So Y/BFF/user loves watching cars go fast, I on the contrary had my heart stop when I found out the speed they drove at. Thank you to McLaren for having us. It was the nicest experience, let's do this again some time. The drivers were so much fun, especially oscarpiastri, same sense of humour as Y/BFF/N.

user 1 I knew loving y/n was a queen move, she's so pretty. user 2 the crossover I didn't know I needed😭😭 user 3 I was at the race and when I said I was a fan she gave me and the others an autograph and we even took pictures!! the sweetest!!❤️❤️ user 4 I was also at the race and I saw her and Lando literally throwing themselves at each other and laughing at god knows what. user 5 user4 me too, I saw them whispering to each other and I think I saw them exchange numbers👀 user 6 both of them follow each other now, idk what that means?? are we getting a new dad?!🤔

Y/N was greeted by McLaren staff at the entrance and given paddock passes to enter. Y/BFF/N was looking around with big round eyes and almost screamed when she saw Lando and Oscar. They shook hands and went along with the engineers on a tour of the paddock. Y/N didn't understand most of it but she was happy for Y/BFF/N. Lando seemed to have noticed that Y/N was zoned out, so he tapped her shoulder, "You don't have to listen if you don't want to." Y/N apologised and tried to pay attention, alas Lando had other plans and decided to end her misery. He took her along to the drivers room, let her sit down and even got her an iced americano, her favourite!! Y/N thanked him with the conversation flowing like butter with the sprinkling of some flirting here and there. As Lando finished P3, he made sure to get Y/N number before she left for the night; a triumphant look on Lando's face.

f1updates

Liked by 34,765 others f1updates Y/N Y/L/N was in attendance at today’s race at McLaren. P (Max's girlfriend's daughter) was seen taking picture with her. She wasn't the only one happy it seems because a certain driver couldn't get done with press and debrief without blushing every time he looked at her. He even ran back after the race to her in what every is describing as a race to get her number before she leaves. We hope to see more of Y/N now that she might become a wag.

user 7 can celebrities who don't care about the sport not come. 😒😒 user 8 this page is supposed to update about the race not the racers lives🙄🙄 user 9 I think they look cute together, I haven't seen Lando blush like this ever🥰🥰

landonorris followed Y/N.Y/L/N

Y/N.Y/L/N followed landonorris

Y/N.Y/L/N

Liked by landonorris and 3,657,987 other Y/N.Y/L/N So happy to bring you the collection with Skims I've been working on since last year. You know how much of a big advocate I am of body positivity and control. I hope this collection brings joy to all the people who wear it, I hope you feel just as sexy as I did while doing the photoshoot

user 7 not Lando lurking in the likes user 8 user 7 he's not lurking, he follows her lol. user 9 she betrayed taylorswift for money🤦‍♀️. user 10 mother is mothering user 11 Y/N.Y/L/N can you adopt me?? I wanna be hot like you when I grow up Y/N.Y/L/N user 11 sure but you're already hot, I can see from the pfp💋💋. user 11 Y/N.Y/L/N didn't just reply to me, i can die happy

landonorris

liked by Y/N.Y/L/N, McLaren, oscarpiastri and 1,456,278 other landonorris might not have finished podium but you guys get cute pictures of me

user 10 marry me Norris!!!❤️❤️💋💋 user 11 he's so cute and drivers fast cars, what a package.🥹🥹. user 12 its ok mate, better luck next time👍 user 1 not only did Lando like y/n post, y/n liked his back too😭😭

y/nupdates

Liked by 15,798 others. y/nupdates Y/N was seen a few days back with a mystery man on the streets of London. Both of them looked very comfortable holding hands or kissing each other any chance they got. Is there romance in the air or is this another one of y/n flings? only time will tell.

user 2 guys, its Lando Norris, Mclaren's driver😳 user 3 I can confrim its Lando, I saw them near big ben user 4 she hasn't released any new music in ages, focus on your work😫😫 user 5 user 4 let her have fun, you mood killer🤬

f1wagsupdates

liked by 3,490 others f1wagsupdates Lando Norris was seen getting up close and comfortable with a new girl on the beaches of Hawaii. Is a new grid couple on the rise??

user 6 you did not just call y/n a new girl?? 🤦‍♀️😤 user 7 i think they are so cute!! I want what they have😩😭 user 8 Lando needs to focus on the race now that Mclaren is doing so good😤😤

popnews

liked by Y/BFF/user and others popnews Y/N Y/L/N, singer and Lando Norris, McLaren's F1 driver were seen walking around the streets of Paris. This seems to be the third city the pair has been spotted being in love. Speculations say that they started dating after Y/N went to the race in March. Only time will tell what is going on between the two since they've kept their personal lives private since neither have been seen attending a race or a concert. We've tried contacting both their PR team but have gotten no response.

user 9 y/n best friend liked this, must be true🤯!! user 10 both of them are so cute together!! can't wait for all the love songs y/n will write😭😭 user 11 i hate it when bitches get with hot guys😡 user 12 you can tell they both are in love. can't believe popnews reported, must be real😔

babygirlcore

Liked by lando.jpg, Y/BFF/user and others. babygirlcore that's why they say you should date an athlete, they got good stamina lando.jpg damn, i feel objectified babygirlcore I'm only with you for the looks, sorry you had to find out like this Y/BFF/N can't believe my bestie is dating my fav driver and I find out from the tabloid babygirlcore I'm sorry Y/BFF/N I would've told you but Lando wouldn't let me. lando.jpg don't drag me in this I'm innocent

Y/N.Y/L/N

Liked by landonorris,maxverstappen1 and 1,452,647 others. Y/N.Y/L/N It was so much fun performing at coachella. Thank you for having me. I've been touring for the past year, but this never gets old. I hope I get to see you guys at my concerts, tickets available in the bio.

user 1 seeing her live was a dream come true😭 user 2 the only reason I went to coachella❤️❤️ user 3 is it just me or was she winking and giggling at someone in the crowd??🤔🤔 user 4 user3 I saw it too, it's prolly Lando🥲🥲 user 5 user4 it was definitely Lando someone posted pictures of them after the coachella user 6 can't believe this witch took my Lando😤😤

landonorris

Liked by Y/N.Y/L/N, McLaren, f1 and 5,278,934 others. landonorris that first win feeling!! So thankful to McLaren for always believing in me!!

user 7 the most deserved win😭😭😭!! user 8 not Lando running to y/n as soon as he won😍😭😭!! user 9 so rude, y/n won't even comment congratulating her boyfriend😷😷 carlossainz55 congratulations cabron oscarpiastri congratulations mate

babygirlcore

liked by lando.jpg and others babygirlcore the winner of Miami gp and my heart!! give it up for Lando Norris!! so proud of you baby, I knew you could do it!! can't wait to share more wins and watch you become the WDC!!

lando.jpg you're making me blush, love you baby!! Y/BFF/user can't believe I missed this historic moment Congratulations Lando!! Gonna have to take the year off so I can process these emotions😭😱🤯 lando.jpg thank you Y/BFF/N

Y/N.Y/L/N

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 3,765,983 others. Y/N.Y/L/N I've been working at the studio for a while now, can't wait for you guys to hear the new stuff I've coming for you. It's been so long since a new album. So, I'm happy to announce the release of my new album in a couple months. Can't wait to share it with the best people in my life!!

link in the bio

user 7 let her cook😭🥹 user 8 can't believe Lando is her muse, the song is so Lando coded🥹🥹 user 9 oh to be y/n and dating Lando, she hit the jack pot😔😔 user 10 I'm so happy she's finally getting the love she deserves❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭. user 11 can they just come out and say that they are dating😖😖. user 12 i'm working late cuz I'm a singer, the line of the century, play this at my funeral💀 Y/BFF/user is this song about me babygirl Y/N.Y/L/N Y/BFF/ user always, you're my soulmate❤️❤️🥰🥰😘😘

Lando couldn't help but gloat to his friends and fellow drivers. How many people can say that their girlfriend wrote a song about them. The song made him soft and mushy so when Y/N walked through the door he tackled her into a hug. "you wrote a song about me" Lando whispered in her ear. "I did" y/n replied, "all my songs are about you darling" Lando's neck felt hot and his cheeks started to hurt from smiling to hard. Y/N looked at his face and smirked, "aww!! is little norris blushing??" Lando quickly moved away and turn his head towards the window. Y/N couldn't help but tease him and call him a sap in love. Honestly the biggest sap was Y/N since she was the one writing songs about her boyfriend.

Y/N.Y/L/N

Tagged landonorris

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 2,769,654 others Y/N.Y/L/N Heart break is one thing, my ego's another.

link in the bio

user 1 mom said dad's not allowed to look anywhere else.😈😈🙈🙈. user 2 what a power move y/n casting her boyfriend in the song about not fucking up the relationship😂😂. user 3 if that stupid vroom vroom guy fucks up, it's on sight😤😤 user 4 i don't get the hype, she aint even that pretty😒. user 6 i hope they break up, Lando is meant to end up with me 🤦‍♀️ landonorris Thanks for having me on the music video, if you need help in the future lemme know😏😉 Liked by the author user 5 Lando trying to be low key in the comments when we know he's being loved by the best girl Y/BFF/user I'm sending this to my boyfriend Y/N.Y/L/N Y/BFF/user I thought I was your boyfriend, am I the other one???? Y/BFF/user Y/N.Y/L/N sorry babygirl, it do be like that sometimes

landonorris

Tagged Y/N.Y/L/N

Liked by Y/N.Y/L/N, maxverstappen1 and 1,256,783 others. landonorris I'm not as good with words as she is. I never knew what love felt like before she walked into my life. So grateful to be the boyfriend of the most beautiful, kind, caring, loving and gorgeous girl. You're my forever person. I love you Y/N Y/L/N❤️❤️

user 1 if someone saw this. they'd think this was a y/n fan acc. user 2 y/n is barbie and Lando is just ken and he's happy if barbie is😫😫. user 3 eww, she ugly, Lando could do so much better. carlossainz55 congratulations cabron!! happy for you charles_leclerc Alex want's to know if we can get tickets to her concert?? Y/N.Y/L/N charles_leclerc yessss!! tell Alex she can come to all my concerts oscarpiastri you would've thought he would shut up after getting with her but he has become insufferable. Y/N.Y/L/N take him away. He cries whenever you're not around. Liked by Y/N.Y/L/N Y/N.Y/L/N I love you too baby boy. You're my forever person too!! landonorris I'm so lucky to have you, love you mommy😘😘.

Y/N.Y/L/N

Tagged landonorris

Liked by landonorris, Y/BFF/user and 1,426,783 others Y/N.Y/L/N People keep asking why are all my songs about love, I look at them and say I’ve finally found my muse. He makes me so happy, I’ve never felt this way with anyone. So grateful for meeting him cuz I don’t think I knew what being loved was like. Thank you Lando Norris for being the light in my dark times. I just wish my heart didn’t give up every time you looked at me or got into that damn F1 car. But I think I’ll live. Love you❤️💋

landonorris love you too. Liked by author user 4 what dry ass reply was that Lando, look at y/n comment's on his post Y/BFF/user landonorris does this mean free passes to the races forever?? landonorris Y/BFF/user obviously!! user 5 Lando is so blind, she's only using you user 6 they are so cute, they'd have the cutest babies🥺🥺 user 7 he's too good for her, i wish he was still with Luisinha user 8 y/n prolly watching every race to make sure her man is alive 🤣🤣

After hitting the post button on their respective accounts, Y/N found herself in Lando's arms with her head against his chest and his on top of hers. She wrapped her arms around his torso and took a deep breathe; "I love you so much, you know that, right?" Lando chuckled, “You don't let me forget it, with being your muse and all” She let out a sign of content and mumbled, "Just like the driver's championship you are P3 in my heart" Lando's face dropped, unwrapping his arms and pulling her to eye level, "what do you mean?" Y/N just laughed and said, "my parents and Y/BFF/N are P1 and P2 but am sure you'll become P2 if I write any more songs about you." Lando leaned in and kissed her, she pulled him closer as she deepend the kiss. Both of them happy where they were in each other's arms.

I hope you guys liked it!!

#f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando x reader #ln4 #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #max verstappen #logan sargeant #f1 smau #f1 texts #lando imagine #lando x you

[stxrvel]

right here

it was just one of those nights when you had to take care of Satoru since Suguru left… content. au, no sorcerers in this one. mentions of drugs and drug use, angst, curse words, maybe some kind of domestic fluff? implied smut at the end. happy ending? a/n. this is kind of like an au from this fic. not so sad and a little bold. hope you like it either way!! (right here by chase atlantic heavily inspired this)

Satoru was high, again. His dilated pupils were fixed on your body from the moment you entered his field of vision, walking among the sweaty bodies that did nothing but squeeze against each other in that discotheque. His lips had curved into a lewd smile, because you knew he knew you were coming, sooner or later, and his bright eyes roamed your body, even though you were barely wearing a pair of baggy jeans and one of his giant jackets. To beat his stupid ass and take him back home, like always.

“Satoru.” you spoke in reprimand, and his fucking friends around you barely gave you a sideways glance, some blurting out obscene words they thought you couldn't hear and others booing because you were going to take away their source of amusement. “Time to go.”

“Ah, y/n, can't you wait a little longer?” Shoko was at Satoru's right side, holding his arm as if she wasn't ready to let him go.

You only liked Shoko when she was sober, so you pay her minimal attention as you approached your white-haired friend. His smile hadn't disappeared, and it seemed like those moments were the only ones where you could glimpse a bit of real emotion in his eyes.

“Come on.” You grabbed his arm, ignoring the way Shoko wanted to cling to him and how his other friends were booing louder. Satoru's limp body slipped through your fingers, because he was damn heavy, falling against the couch again. “Please.”

His body gave way, moving with a new strength of resolve the moment that word left your mouth. His eyes, as bright as they were dangerous, were fixed on yours as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Will you shut the fuck up, Choso?” Satoru spat, averting his gaze for a moment to devote a deadly expression to the friend who used to boo you the most whenever you went looking for him. You and Choso used to get along well, but from a while back things had changed too much.

Even six months ago you didn't think you'd ever have to go into a nightclub at two in the fucking morning to look for your friend because he wasn't answering his fucking phone.

You dragged Satoru to your car, and even though he looked so stoned from the way you could barely make out the blue in his irises, he walked like he was sober beside you and buckled up judiciously.

“You were late today.” was the first thing he said as you pulled onto the freeway heading towards your apartment; the apartment you shared with the airhead you had for a friend.

"I was asleep. You were supposed to write me if you were here any longer.” you gave yourself a moment to turn to look at him, his gaze clouded with drugs. “What did you get into?”

“Nothing I haven't tried before, don't worry.”

“Why do you have to do this every time?” you whispered, but his perceptive self caught every word that came out of your mouth and let out a chuckle in response.

“You shouldn't worry so much, y/n.”

“I'll worry as much as I damn well please, you hear?”

Your aggressive tone of voice only caused him to laugh again. He didn't answer back, but with his head resting against the window you knew he'd fall asleep soon.

-

Satoru had become uncontrollable since Suguru left. Six months ago, the love of his life, the person he swore he would spend the rest of his life with, had given him nothing but a poor excuse to end what they had built for four years and kick it all over his face as he turned his back on him and disappeared; totally. The day Suguru walked out that door, neither you nor Satoru ever saw him again.

It was clear why you were coping better than Satoru. Suguru hadn't promised you a lifetime together or given you a promise ring. Satoru had been broken since the day he left and it had been a constant battle trying to keep him afloat. Only that nigh Suguru left, Satoru dared to be vulnerable with you and spent the whole night crying himself to sleep from exhaustion. Afterwards, he reconnected with friends he had abandoned since meeting Suguru. And with old habits, too.

You did what you could, but there was enough you could carry. Still, you didn't have the heart to leave him alone. He was the most important thing in your life and you couldn't let him fade away, even if his friends hated you; even if he hated you himself. Whatever you had to do, you would do it.

“You smell so good.” Satoru spoke in his sleep, the moment you dropped him on your bed, because he had never dared to go back into the room he shared with Suguru. He usually slept in the living room or brought the couch into your room when he felt too lonely. “Have you always smelled like this?”

His head lifted from the pillow, trying to follow the thread of the scent of your perfume wafting from your neck.

“Yes. Now hold still.”

“Is it time to undress already?”

"Yes, Satoru. And you should take a bath. You smell awful."

"What the…? Of course not."

The white-haired man stood up long enough to try to sniff his own shirt, which emitted a smell of alcohol mixed with cigarette and who knows how many other things. His nose wrinkled and for that reason alone he let you unbutton his shirt without a complaint. Usually Satoru would get too commentary when you undressed him to take a shower, but that time he kept quiet, his narrowed eyes following your movements and flinching when your fingers touched his skin.

“Are you going to fix dinner?”

You looked up at him through your lashes as you undid his black pants.

“Are you hungry?”

“I think it would help me regain consciousness.”

"In the fridge are the leftovers from dinner. I can heat them up while you bathe."

Satoru clicked his tongue, moving to sit up when you took him by the shoulders.

“We were supposed to have dinner tonight.”

Ah, in all and in the midst of his lethargic state he remembered.

“Doesn't matter.”

“I'm sorry, y/n.”

"Get up. The tub's ready."

Satoru stood up with a pout, his eyes crystallizing as he moved behind you in the direction of the bathroom. He didn't stray for a moment like he did before.

“Ah,” Satoru almost groaned as he sank fully into the water, letting his eyes close as you wet his hair a little, “this feels like glory.”

“You could feel like this more often if you didn't go out so much.”

Your friend frowned, half-opening his eyes to look at you as his hair got soaked. “Are you implying something specific?”

You didn't respond, letting silence dance between the two of you, until your friend groaned loudly.

“You know I'm slower when I'm drunk.”

“Then you should stop being drunk so often.”

“Not fair…”

“Take a bath,” you left the soap between his hands, “I'll go heat up your food.”

Walking in the direction of the exit, you still wondered why you had let things go this far. Satoru called out to you, his left hand outstretched outside the tub, as if reaching for you, trying to get to you. His bright eyes still lacked that glowing blue, but you could see a little more lucidity in them now.

“Thank you.”

-

You sat across from your friend as he dove into the dinner you had prepared. Satoru loved your food. Back when Suguru still lived here, you would prepare banquets to spend a day or the whole weekend with endless platters of food while having series or movie marathons.

Maybe you wanted to convince yourself that Suguru's departure hadn't affected you as much as it had Satoru. Maybe it had, but if you weren't the rational one in the relationship you were left in with Satoru then probably neither of you would survive.

“This tastes amazing.” Satoru complimented you, scraping the crockery to eat every last chip.

“It was more delicious freshly prepared.”

You let your chin rest on the back of your hand as Satoru looked up heavily, the blue glowing a little brighter after the shower and with some food in his stomach.

He gulped. “I'm sorry-”

“Whatever,” you didn't want to hear it; you'd lost count of the number of times he'd apologized and the number of times he'd promised you that next time it wouldn't be like this, “finish quickly to go to sleep. I can't feel my eyes anymore."

You got up before his whiny voice could reach your ears and finished organizing the kitchen by the time his plate was left in the dishwasher.

“The rest will be organized by tomorrow's sober you.”

Satoru lifted a shoulder. “It's only fair.”

In the room, silence engulfed you once again. You didn't close the door because you knew he planned to sleep there that night, but his body remained standing in front of the couch when you thought he'd already gone to bed. You changed, as usual, as you usually do while he sleeps, in front of the closet.

“Hey, do you think I can sleep with-? Wow.”

You froze. Your breath caught in your throat because you swore he'd gone to bed; it was what he did every time, you didn't even have to ask him to do it. But when you cautiously turned to look over your shoulder, he was standing in front of your bed, with a direct view of your bare back and full coverage of your legs because you were only in your underwear.

“Satoru! Turn around!”

“Ah, yes, sorry, sorry…”

His body turned reluctantly, returning the poorly disguised stare about three times until his back was completely turned to you.

You changed in record time, barely putting on one of the white shirts you had stolen from him months ago and closing the closet. When you turned around to see him, his back was still turned, playfully kicking some lint on the floor, trying to distract himself while you finished changing.

“What were you saying?”

Satoru turned suddenly, his eyes finding you with trained ease, walking in the direction of the nightstand to prepare you, once again, for sleep. His silence intrigued you, and when you turned back to see him after plugging in your phone and setting your alarms, you found him staring at your legs.

“Satoru.”

“Yes?” his large, not very innocent eyes returned to your face with embarrassing speed, and from the hardness in your gaze he cleared his throat before speaking again. "Ah. Mmm. Actually, I wanted to ask you if I could sleep with you tonight, but I don't know if it's the most appropriate thing to do right now…"

You arched an eyebrow at him, massaging your hands with a moisturizer as you settled in between your sheets.

“But you sleep here every night.”

“I mean,” Satoru shifted, pointing to the empty side of your bed and then to himself, “to literally sleep with you.”

“Ah.”

You looked at the empty side and at your friend, taking more time to respond than Satoru had considered. He thought you'd straight up tell him no and even send him to sleep in the living room, but it seemed like you genuinely considered it.

“I wouldn't mind.” you finally replied, and you missed seeing the way his shoulders relaxed as you turned to turn off the room light. “Just try not to snore too much.”

“What?” Satoru stopped halfway into the bed, and you smiled imagining his offended face; if you focused properly you could see it through the darkness. “I don't snore.”

“Uh-huh~”

Satoru finally threw himself on the bed with a grunt and you could only laugh in response.

“Go to sleep already.”

Satoru cowered on his side of the bed, unaccustomed to sharing a bed with someone for several months now. His tense body stayed in the position he fell into, face up, barely feeling your movements on the mattress as you found your favorite sleeping position. Your bed was small, barely fit two people, and if Satoru got any closer he could feel your breathing against his neck.

“y/n?” Satoru spoke a couple of minutes later, when he thought you had fallen asleep.

“Mmm?” you hummed in response, trying to hold back sleep until you were sure your friend had fallen asleep first. Usually that wasn't a problem, because Satoru pretty much came in asleep from the car ride, but that night he seemed to be full of surprises.

“Do you miss him?”

Your chest ached for the tiniest second, the fond memories of their nights the three of you together in that apartment raiding your mind. Maybe you had mourned Suguru's departure as much as Satoru had when he wasn't seeing you, but that was something you were going to keep to yourself alone. There was no room for forgiveness and that attempted of a man didn't deserve a single tear from both of you.

So you swallowed that pressure like a wet rag and frowned, even if your friend couldn't see you.

“Not as much as I'd like to strangle him.”

“How do you do that? How do you stay strong?”

His voice, so low, soft and vulnerable, you couldn't help but let it pierce through to your heart. You opened your eyes, and for some reason you felt his blue eyes on yours.

“I do it for you.”

You listened to his breathing, loud, choppy, the slight startled intake of breath. You moved your hands over the mattress and didn't have to go too far to find his hands and cradle them.

“You don't have to think about that,” you murmured now that you were closer, feeling his heartbeat through your grip, “you don't have to think about him.”

“I don't know what to think about anymore.” Satoru replied, his voice matching yours, almost as if he was running out of air; like his last prayer for salvation.

And you didn't know, even some time later, what had moved you that night. His closeness, his vulnerability, that you no longer knew what else to do to help him… but you moved closer to him and pressed your lips against his.

Satoru was probably moved by the same thing that moved you, because he didn't hesitate for a second to kiss you back with the same fierceness and passion, letting go of your hands and wrapping his long arms around your waist.

That night something changed between the two of you. You didn't know if you were seeking comfort in each other's arms; trying to fill a void that someone else had implanted in both of you with his departure, when he had taken a part of each of you with him when he left; maybe because you were both the only thing the other had; maybe because you knew Satoru would never do that to you; maybe because he knew you would never do that to him.

Whatever the reason, Satoru never let go of you all night, his lips swallowing every moan of yours and his hands always intertwined with yours.

Whatever the reason, Satoru had found something else, something different, something that didn't even compare to drugs… something he didn't even know he could have.

And he wasn't about to let it go this time.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo smut #satoru angst

[jjkilll]

-— ✫ FALSE GOD ✫ —-

— pairing | bestfriend/fuckbuddy jk x y/n

— summary | After a date, a very jealous Jungkook wants to remind you that there is no love like his.

—  warning | smut, oral sex (f receiving), squirting (eeeekkkk)

— word count | 1.7K

— song | False God - Taylor Swift

You shuffle into your shared apartment, shedding yourself your coat and shoes. Jungkook sat on the couch watching a movie, his arms folded.

You and Jungkook started fucking around after one night of drunken sex. When you needed him he came running. No distance or circumstance could stop him from getting to you. When you landed on the friends-with-benefits thing, Jungkook stopped bringing girls home. He was usually the type to bring a girl home whenever he went out with his friends, but it's been a ghost town since. You figured it was just out of respect for your newfound relationship. You never got jealous... well you never got jealous and showed it. Jungkook went on plenty of dates, you were afraid just a little bit. What if this date went so well, that he forgot all about you. It wouldn’t be just the sex you'd miss, It'd be the fact that, whenever you called the chances of him dropping everything to get to you would drop to zero. You loved him; he was your best friend and you'd do anything to ensure he'd stay.

But, when Jungkook reached his fourth date with Miyeon, you figured it was time to start dating around too. You and Jungkook weren't dating, that's something often had to remind yourself. Yeah, you slept together, a lot, but he wasn't your boyfriend. Just your best friend with whom you had casual sex with.

Mingyu was a friend of Jungkook's, he was nice and funny and had always taken an interest in you. So when he asked you to grab dinner, you figured it wouldn't be a big deal.

"How was it?" Jungkook asked arms still folded, his eyes never leaving the screen. He tried to not make it obvious when he was jealous but it never worked. You always saw right through him. He was pissed, maybe because it was Mingyu, or maybe it was the thought that he had to share you. You weren't sure, but you weren't going to ask.

"Great actually. We went to that fancy Italian place downtown." You explain. Truly the date went well, Mingyu was chatting you up and making you laugh. He talked about his job and asked about yours. He asked how you met Jungkook and you explained that you two had been friends since your junior year of high school. After talking about Jungkook, he never left your mind. You found your mind drifting wondering if he might've been bored at home without you, or even worse fucking Miyeon. You were snapped back into reality when Mingyu complimented you. You felt bad, a hot guy was sitting right in front of you and all you could think about was if your best friend was fucking someone else.

He hums, "Good," was all he said. Man, he sucked at hiding his jealousy. You flopped down beside him. "You look pretty." He said glancing over at you. He always thought you were beautiful, regardless of the circumstance. You could've just rolled out of bed hung over and he'd still think you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. "Thank you." You replied sweetly. "Did he tell you?" He asked sighing. "Tell me what?" You asked curiously. "That you look pretty." He responded, arms still crossed eyes locked on the screen. He wasn't even paying attention the the film, quite frankly he wasn't even interested. He only turned in on and skipped through once he realized you were on your way home. He had been sitting in silence waiting on you anxiously. Hoping and Praying Mingyu wouldn't follow behind. He had the biggest sigh of relief when it was just you.

"Yeah, he said it a lot actually. I felt like I wasn't complimenting him enough," you chuckle. "So, are you going to go out with him again?" He asked this time turning his head to look at you. You had been looking at him the whole time, watching him struggle to control his face when you even mentioned Mingyu. "Uh, he didn't ask me out again, at least not in person but I'm hoping he'll text me." He scoffed.

"What?" You asked, you knew what was wrong, you just wanted to hear him say it. "Nothing." He said not wanting to start anything. He knew that you weren't his girlfriend. "Jungkook, don't lie to me please." He huffed. "It's just... Why him?" You're taken aback, he's really mad. The thought of Mingyu touching you the way he touched you made him want to wring his neck.

"He's nice and sweet, you know this." You respond simply. "So am I." He mutters under his breath. "What?" you asked playing dumb. You heard him, you needed to know if he wants you as bad as you want him. "I said, so am I. What makes me different than him." He looks you in the eyes, no trace of a joke. "You're dating Miyeon, I don't see why me dating Mingyu is such a big deal." You say confused. He chose to go out with her, why does it matter if you do it.

He pauses the movie before he continues, "I only went out with her so I could stop thinking about you! You fucking consume my thoughts! Every time you're not around me I wonder what you're doing, who you're talking to, what you ate, who's looking at you... who's touching you. I shouldn't feel that way about you but I do. So yeah, you fucking one of my friends doesn't excite me. I'm sorry," He says angrily. He's now looking away from you. His hands balled into a fist. You're sure if Mingyu was here, he'd probably deck him in the face. You don't like how angry is he, his neck is turning red and his ears might as have had steam blowing out of them. "I'm glad you had fun, I just wish that it was with me." He breathes out.

You lift your hand to his chin and turn his face to you. His eyes are dark but soften when they meet yours. He examines your face, you're not upset with him and he was relieved. "Tell me what you really need to stay, baby." You say softly. He sighs, his neck cooling down and he takes a deep breath before speaking, "I like you y/n. I have since the day we met, and I was fine with being your friend because I'd rather have some of you than none. I can't sit back and watch you fall for someone else. That shit might kill me. That shit will kill me." He spoke, his eyes locked in yours.

You lean in, "I'd rather die than live without you," you whisper. "So have me. All of me, because I want all of you." His lips crash onto yours, and he kisses you like you are going to disappear into thin air.

He kisses you and you fall back onto the couch. You're so small under him. Sometimes he'd be afraid that he might break you. Your kisses were so messy and deep, that your hips bucked up grinding against him. He moans into your mouth. He breaks the kiss, kissing your neck. He grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head then kisses down your tummy. His soft lips against your skin made you lose it. He unbuttoned your pants slipping his hand in rubbing circles on your clit. You moan and he silences you with a kiss. You grab his face with both of his hands. He plunges to fingers into your dripping cunt. You gasp against his lip letting his fingers stretch you out. "Fuck Jungkook please." You moan against his lips. "Tell me what you need baby." He says kissing your neck again, still fucking you with his long fingers. "Your mouth, please I need your mouth, Kook." You feel him grin against the softest part of your neck.

He sits up yanking your pants off of you. "These panties are so cute." He snaps the band against your skin making you whine. "Oh, I know baby. How bad do you need me?" He asks teasing you playfully. "Please Kook, I need you so badly, I need your tongue on me. Please please I'll do anything." He loved to hear you beg for him. He pulls your panties off of you and settles between your thighs. He lifts your legs over your shoulders and kisses the inside of your thighs. "You smell so good, baby. I know you taste even better." He speaks before licking a long stripe up your folds. You moan pornographically. His tongue swirls around your clit driving you batshit crazy.

Jungkook's tongue was crazy, you thank every girl before you for teaching him all he knows because you've never had head like his. His fingers enter you once again, the sensation of his tongue and fingers has you about to fall apart. "Y-yes oh my fucking god, keep doing that." He hums against you. You run your hands through his hair. Your eyes roll back and before you know it you're coming and shaking. You struggle to keep your legs open but Jungkook holds you still. He continues fucking into you and quickens his pace curling his fingers.

You've barely had time to recoup before you feel like you're coming again. "Jungkook please fuck. I can't- I-" You struggle to breathe before your vision goes blurry and you're coming again. You squirt all over his face and fingers. He pulls his fingers out of you and sits back up kissing you. He slaps your pussy and you moan into the kiss. "Shit, that was so hot, I didn't know you could squirt." He chuckles. "Fuck me neither." He pecks your lips once more before sitting up completely. "Let's go get you in the shower baby." He lends you his hand helping you stand. "Wait, Jungkook you didn't come." His eyes widen a little. "Oh uhh" He looks away nervously. "I- I did." He sniffs and looks back at you. He looks down at his sweats noticing a wet spot. "That's so hot." You pull him closer. "It's a little embarrassing."

"You came in your pants just from eating me out. That's really fucking hot Jungkook. I turn you on that much huh?" You tease. "Stop coming in my pants twice is crazy." You laugh as he softly pushes you away. "Then how about... In the shower, you come in me." You say with a playful smile biting your lip teasingly. "Don't threaten me with a good time, baby." He lifts you carrying you to the bathroom.

Finally, you got him after pinning over him for so long. Jungkook is finally yours, and you are his.

✫ -----------------------✫

a/n: Something a little fun, I love this song and had the idea of doing something with Taylor's music like I did with Mac. Thank you for reading if you did. If you like please like and repost :D thanks for the support. feedback and requests are appreciated just inbox me.

#bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook jeon #bts #jungkook smut #bangtan jungkook #jeon jungkoooook #bts army #bangtan smut #bangtan #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook

[ketaundkrawall]

Rode Lichten ☽｡⋆ Joost Klein

Summary: after your Birthday ends in a disaster, Joost is there to make it better.

Warnings: smut (18+!!), cheating, alcohol consumption mentioned, friends to lovers (kinda?), use of 🥦, sexual tension af, fingering, unprotected piv, afab!reader, no use of Y/N

WC: 2.2k

A/N: it’s the little something i started in class a few days ago, heavily inspired by Jenny. I hope you like it and it’s enjoyable so dig in my friends! Also, I’m so down bad for him I can’t ok.

You needed to get out of that fucking club. The air was too warm and sticky, a small layer of sweat was covering your skin and you felt like you’d suffocate at any moment now. Your eyes were brimming with tears as you looked up at the glowy ‘exit’ signs right above you.

As you opened the door the rather cold air of the Amsterdam night hit you. Looking around you saw a few people talking and smoking. They didn’t pay any attention to you though, being too engaged in their own conversations.

The tears started to flow freely from your eyes now as you made your way down the street, walking a few feet away from the other people standing outside. Leaning against the wall you slowly slid down against it, holding your face, trying to cover up the sobs coming from your throat.

How could he?

He was your boyfriend of two years you just catched making out with another girl at the club you both were partying your birthday at. Two years wasted. Hell, you were supposed about to move in with over the course of the next few months. Thank god you didn’t already.

Being so caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t hear your name being called out. Looking up you saw a blonde man walking up to you. Joost.

You met him a few years back through one of your boyfriend’s friends and you both hit it off instantly. Much to his dismay. You were always together when you went to parties. Talking and just vibing, sharing the same interests.

“H-hey.” You quickly got up, brushing the tear stains from your cheeks. Giving him a sweet smile you tried your best to not look like you just cried like a baby. But your red rimmed, glossy eyes must’ve given it away to the man standing now in front of you.

“What the fuck happened? Did he hurt you?” You could hear the rage in his voice. Ever since you both met he had been extremely protective over you. “Joost I’m fine. He just-“ You sighed. “I just guess it’s over between him and me.”

Instinctively Joost pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry.” He sighed but you pulled away. “No. Don’t be. I guess I knew it was coming. He behaved weird lately so this was literally just a matter of time.” Shaking your head you stepped away and he just nodded.

For a few moments you both just stood there saying nothing. “Let’s get out of here.” Joost suddenly spoke up. Squinting your eyes you looked over at him. “What’s on your mind?” He just gave you a cheeky grin. “You’ll see.”

˚ · • . ° .

An hour later you found yourself laying beside Joost in your bed, a joint being passed between the two of you as you enjoyed the feeling of being high.

You didn’t talk, just laid there smoking at looking at the ceiling which was illuminated by red LED lights. Your brain was foggy and your eyes glossy. Your now ex boyfriend, long forgotten in the haze of marihuana.

“That was a fucking great idea.” You mumbled and looked at him. His eyes were closed but a smile was plastered across his face. “I know.” Joost grinned and looked at you. Your nose was almost touching his.

Your eyes lingered on his lips as Joost fingers suddenly brushed some hair out of your face, pulling you out of your trance. Clearing your throat you looked back into his eyes. Thank god he couldn’t see you blush in the red light the room was drowned in.

“Are you okay?” He whispered and his voice sounded so attractive all of the sudden. You never noticed before. Swallowing, you nodded. Your mouth was going dry as you answered him. “Yeah.” It was barely a whisper. Now he was the one looking at your lips. slowly starting to lean in. Excitement started to creep up your bones and just as your lips were about to touch, your phone rang.

With groan you pulled away and looked at the display. Seeing your best friend’s name pop up on the screen you sighed and accepted the call. “Oh my god where are you?! Are you okay??!” She screamed into the speaker of the phone. The music of the club still very audible in the background. “Yeah I’m fine. I’m home. Got bored.” You said and she screamed something along the lines that she was worried about you.

In the meantime Joost was grinning beside you. The desperation that was radiating from both of you took up the whole room.

After telling her she should take care of herself the call was ended pretty quickly, you didn’t even get a chance to say bye to her. With a sigh you turned over to the man lying in your bed again. “I’m sorry.” You looked at him and he just shrugged. “It’s fine. I should probably go anyway.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “O-oh yeah sure.” The memory of what almost happened just minutes ago suddenly very prominent in your head. “Unless.. you don’t want me to?” He looked deep into your eyes and you had the feeling he was staring directly into your soul, reading every single one of your secrets like an open book. The times you imagined him while being fucked by your boyfriend. You always had to hold yourself back to not moan Joosts name. Or the countless times you touched yourself to the thought of Joost in between your legs, sucking on your clit and making you feel so good.

Only being able to shake your head you looked into his eyes. You had no idea if it was the effect of the joint you both just shared or the feelings for him you suppressed for a long time now. But to you, Joost just looked like the most beautiful person in the whole world right now. His hair was messy and his eyes hazed with lust and want.

With two steps he crossed the room until he was standing right in front of you, cupping your cheek and pressing his lips to yours. Taken aback at first, you soon started to kiss back. It was slow but soon turned into a heated make out session.

He pressed you down onto the mattress, hovering over your body. His hands made their way under your shirt, brushing it up slightly, and caressing your sides. They felt soft against your skin, his fingertips leaving hot trails as they started to roam your body. Little moans escaping your mouth as they brushed over your chest.

Eventually you pulled away for air, breathing heavily. “Too much?” Joost asked and was about to get some distance between you two but you held him back, shaking your head. “No.” You breathed out. “No, please touch me again. Don’t stop.” The words left your mouth in a desperate whine.

You had waited for this to happen for so long. And now there you were, with him. Giving the way he looked at you, he definitely felt the same way. But you had no idea if it was just the drugs and alcohol talking or not.

His hands were on you again in an instant, his lips attacking your neck. Joosts hands lifted your shirt up, pulling away to ask you for permission. “Is this okay?” You just nodded and the shirt went flying somewhere into the room as he eyed your now exposed chest up and down, drinking in the sight.

“You look amazing.” He mumbled, making your cheeks heat up. And again you were glad that he couldn’t see you blush like a madman.

His fingers softly brushed over the curves of your hips before wandering up to your naked chest and over your nipples which instantly hardened under his touch, your breath hitching. “You like that don’t you?” Joost asked with a mischievous grin on his face. “How about I touch you here?” He said, his hand ghosting over your jeans covered heat.

Biting your lip you looked at him, your panties already drenched. Your head moved on its own as you gave him a nod.

Grinning he dipped his hand slowly into your pants and ghosted his fingers over your swollen clit. “C’mere.” Joost mumbled and pulled you into another deep kiss while fingering your tight wet cunt earning a little moan from you every now and then.

“Feels good schatje (Baby), doesn’t it? God you’re so wet for me.” He groaned. “Oh god fuck!” You whined in response to his words and touch, bucking your hips more into his touch to get some friction.

His mouth trailed down to your pulse, sucking on it before kissing down to your chest, his fingers never leaving your aching core. As he took one of your nipples into his mouth a loud, breathy sound escaped your lips. Joost kept on fingering you hard and fast, hitting your g-spot just perfectly. Combined with him biting and nibbling on your chest you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

As if he could sense it, he suddenly pulled away from you. Taking his hand out of your panties he held his fingers up to his mouth. Your mouth opened slightly as you watched him licking them clean and moaning at your taste.

“Oh fuck me.” You said and it made Joost chuckle. “You know.” He grinned taking his shirt off. “I was planning on it.” Throwing it away he looked at you, opening his belt. Looking up at him through hooded eyelids you reached out and helped him take his pants off. Now he was just in is boxers and you could see the outline of his hard cock straining against the black material of his boxers.

His hand grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up. “Are you sure you want this?” Joost asked, his voice laced with want. Putting your hand over his you gave him a nod of consent. “Yes I want it Joost. I want you.”

That was all he needed to hear. He pushed the last remaining piece of clothing he was wearing down his legs, discarding it somewhere behind him. Pushing you on your back he was quick to attack your lips again, slipping his tongue between your lips, his hard on heavy against your thigh.

Taking your panties off, you wrapped your hand around him, giving him a few pumps which made him close his eyes in pleasure and his beating got heavier. “Need you so bad.” You whimpered now. “Please Joost.”

Leaning forward he connected your lips again just as he pushed all the way inside of you, making both of you moan out in pleasure. He was big and you suddenly felt so full, needing a moment to adjust to his size. “It’s okay.” You whispered and kissed his jaw. “You can move I’m fine.”

And with that he started to move his hips. He pulled out almost all the way just to thrust back into the warmth of your tight pussy. And he swore he could see starts right there and then. You felt so good.

By the sounds you were making Joost could tell that you enjoyed yourself just as much as he did. Your hands tangled in his hair, drawing him closer to you.

As his thrust became slower you could tell he was close, just as you were. His hair was messy, falling into his eyes, lips slightly opened letting out short little breaths and his skin felt hot and damp under your touch. Both of your bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Feeling Joosts thrust hard and deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot just perfectly you felt yourself tighten as your orgasms suddenly washed over you without any warning. His name falling from your lips like a fucking prayer.

His thrusts became sloppier until his hips came to a halt. His cock twitched as he came deep inside you, painting your walls in ropes of his spent.

Leaning his forehead against yours, eyes closed, riding out both of your highs before collapsing beside you.

Blushing you looked over at him, pulling the sheets up to cover your naked body, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. “I liked it.” You whispered, not daring to speak any louder. Joost smiled before looking over at you. “Me too.”

With a sigh you got up, covers wrapped around you tightly as you picked up your clothes. “What are you doing?” Joost asked. You shyly turned around with a shrug. “Come on don’t be like that now. You’re beautiful. Don’t need to dress for me.”

Hesitant you walked over again and flopped on the bed beside him just to be pulled into Joosts chest.

Soon you relaxed into his touch and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his naked skin against yours and his steady breathing. As you felt his lips against your forehead, you smiled to yourself.

“Gelukkige verjaardag, liefje (Happy birthday love).” Joost whispered. “Thank you.” You whispered back and pressed another kiss to his soft lips.

You’d definitely remember that birthday for the rest of your life.

˚ · • . ° .

A/N: thank you for reading, requests are open btw <3 (I’m slow tho okay 🥹)

#joost klein #12 points to the netherlands #joost klein x reader #joost klein imagine #joostice #joost klein smut #justice for joost #eurovision 2024 #stand with joost

[awakenedevildays]

hi love! may I request some angst with art where family friend!reader gets invited to the Donaldson’s yearly fundraiser gala and they spend the night yearning and pining over art. if you can, make it as heart wrenching as possible ♡ thank you and keep up the great work!

「wrong choices」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

I'm so exited, this is the real first fic I write under request, thank you so much for requesting love, hope this is good enough for you! 🩷(didn't know if you wanted a sad or happy ending and I got carried away with an happy one, if you want an angst ending let me know)

info: angst, fluff, kissing, mentions of cheating (on reader), happy ending.

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

You love galas, you always did: ever since you were little you and your family had to attend many galas and you would always be head over the heels at the idea of dressing with cute dresses and beautiful shoes. Yes, you love galas, especially the Donaldson's.

You've been to the Donaldson family's galas for ages and they never disappoint. No, truly, they know how to put on an event. With beautiful dresses to wear (always wearing the latest from fashion designers), incredible music- every year different- and even the best food in the state; these galas always excite you.

Another thing that made you exited about their galas was the only child of the family: the blonde, blue and brown eyed, sweet guy you met at the first gala you attended at the sweet age of six years old, Art Donaldson.

You've always liked him, when you were little he would take you around his huge villa to play whatever game you two would invent at that moment and at the end of the night your dress and his little tuxedo would be all wrinkled, sometimes dirty, hair all out of place that caused your moms to lightly scold you... at the end neither your mother nor his cared much if at the end of the evening you both looked like you had just returned from a day of planting flowers with your bare hands. 

Things obviously changed as time went on: after Art's 17th and your 16th birthday, at least at the beginning of the evening, you seemed determined to pay attention and talk to the other guests... but it never lasted too long before Art dragged you away with him to share a bottle of wine with your feet immersed in his outdoor pool.

The last year the same thing happened. 

"Art, you can't always kidnap me when I'm talking to someone" you wanted to sound serious, you really did, but his boyish smile was too cute and the expensive wine bottle he had in his hand was too tempting. 

"Come on! don't act like you really wanted to listen to those boring conversations with those boring business men" he said, his hand dragging you by your wrist towards the pool. 

Once you were close enough he released your wrist and took off his shoes and socks, his feet in the water immediately after while you stood there, he looked at you. 

"please" he said and you scolded him with your eyes before shaking your head and taking off your heels and lifted your dress up to your thighs to avoid getting it wet, you sat down next to him, your feet touched the cool water and a sigh left your mouth, you didn't realize how bad they were hurting in the shoes.  

Art grinned at you and you looked ay him skeptical "what" you ask, a fake annoyed look on your face .

"see? even your feet are thanking me" he said and you met his left shoulder with your right one. 

"shut up, you're getting ruder and ruder with each passing year" you joked and Art passed to bottle to you to take the first sip, always the gentleman. 

Art chuckled and watched as you took the first sip, the cool, smooth liquid sliding down your throat. He knew you better than almost anyone and could tell when you were being serious and when you were just acting tough to save face. 

"Don't worry, I know you secretly love me" he teased, nudging your shoulder with his own. Art took the bottle back from you, taking a small sip before speaking again "and besides, I'm not getting ruder, I'm just becoming more charming and witty."

You raised your eyebrows at him and decided not to indulge him any further "so, how is the tennis school going?" you asked and Art shrugged.

"good" he answered with a shrug. 

"and Patrick?". 

"still the same asshole" he laughed "he won't be coming to Standford with me in fall".

 "he's going in another college?" he shook his head. 

"he plans on going on a tour".

"mhhh" you said and Art looked at you suspiciously.

"you seem really interested in Patrick" his tone not as light as it was before and you raised your head to look at him, but he was already looking at the water of the pool, jaw clenched. 

There was something in Art's demeanor change that caught your attention. It was subtle, but palpable. The relaxed and playful atmosphere between you two had shifted, and Art's jaw was now tense. You knew him well enough to realize that something was bothering him, and judging by his comment about Patrick, you had an idea of what it might be. You decided to tread lightly with your next words, wanting to understand what had triggered this sudden change in his mood "what makes you say that?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

"every time we see each other you always ask about him, you saw him only once like what, 3 years ago?" he asked ironically and your eyes widened "okay, slow down Donaldson, where is this all coming from? I'm just trying to have a conversation with you" you said as gently as possible. 

Art leaned back a little, taking another swig from the bottle before responding. His tone was still a little on edge, but he knew you enough to understand you were just trying to calm things down "I know you're just trying to have a conversation, but seriously, why are you so interested in Patrick all of a sudden?" he questioned, his gaze still fixed on the water.

"I'm not interested in Patrick" your tone was serious and suddenly maintaining eyes contact with him was harder. 

Art turned to look at you, his gaze intense, searching yours. He could see the conviction in your eyes and hear it in your tone, but something was still bothering him. He paused a moment before speaking again "then why are you always asking about him?" he asked, his voice a bit softer now.

"Because I care about your life, I care about you and Patrick is a part of your life, that's all, I swear" you didn't know why, but the thought of Art thinking that you had feelings for another man felt wrong but somewhat satisfying.

Art sighed, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little. He could see the truth in your words, and his own jealousy subsided a little. "Sorry" he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess I just got a little..." he admitted, his gaze darting from you back to the pool.

"...Jealous? aw aren't you the sweetest friend ever?" you pinched his cheek with your fingers and Art laughed, his hand grasped yours to take it off his cheek, but once away from his face his hand stayed wrapped around your, his thumb caressing the back of it. 

Art's laughter filled the air, breaking the tension between you. The warmth of his hand enclosing yours sent a shiver up your spine, his thumb gently stroking your skin. There was something intimate about the touch, something that defied the boundaries of mere friendship. For a moment, you were both silent, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pool. 

Art looked down at your joined hands, his thumb continuing its slow, soothing motion against your skin.

"I'm sorry" he said again and you shook your head. 

"It's okay" you muttered and your eyes met, his blue light of the pool shined on his face, hands still intertwined on his thigh and his eyes looked briefly at your lips. 

"what if, what if I don't want to be your friend" your heart skipped a bit.

"u-uh?" you asked.

Art swallowed hard, his gaze locked with yours. The air around you suddenly felt charged, the casual setting of the poolside now seemed intimate and intense "what are you... what are you saying?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Art's grip on your hand tightened, his thumb still tracing small circles on your skin.

Art leaned a little closer, his eyes still fixed on yours. "What I'm saying is..." he began, his voice low and serious "I don't want to be just your friend anymore" he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing "I don't want to watch you talk and laugh with other men, I can't stand it, it makes me sick".

His words hung in the air between you, the atmosphere thick with tension. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing with the implications of what he was saying. Art's hand still held yours tightly, almost as if he was afraid to let go, afraid that you might pull away.

"oh" you felt stupid, utterly and absolutely stupid, the guy whom you had a crush for since forever, just confessed to you and the only thing you can say is...'oh'? Art laughed. 

"Don't laugh you asshole!" you exclaimed pushing him away from you, him almost falling in the pool. 

"Can you not like... push me in the pool just cause I confessed to you?" he said between laughters and your cheeks flushed red. 

"I'm sorry you caught me off guard!" you said bringing the bottle to your mouth and taking a big sip, you couldn't have this conversation sober. 

Art finally managed to regain his balance, still laughing as he held onto the side of the pool for support. "It's okay, it's okay" he said, his laughter slowly dying down as he regained his composure.

"But seriously, you can't just say 'oh'" he teased once again, his tone turning playful again as he splashed a bit of water at you jokingly. 

You stayed silent and Art waited for you to answer, it took you all the strength you had to maintain eye contact with him "I like you too" you said, face serious and red cheeks and Art nodded. 

"oh" his tone light was clearly teasing you. 

"ok, now I'm pushing you in the pool on purpose" you said. 

Art burst into laughter at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He held up his hands in surrender "No, no, no, please don't" he said between chuckles but his tone was full of teasing. 

As he spoke, he shifted closer to you, his thigh now touching yours. He reached out and lightly pushed your shoulder, the playful gesture causing a ripple in the water between you.

Art's teasing expression quickly vanished at your words, his hand that was still on your shoulder froze "what?" he asked, his tone slightly sharper than it was before.

"I should ask Patrik if he's single I don't think h-" your joking sentence is interrupted by his lips on yours, a hand behind your head and the other on your thigh and you immediately rested yours on his cheeks. 

Art's lips were soft and firm against yours, the taste of the expensive wine still lingered on his tongue as he kissed you passionately. His hand on your thigh moved to your waist to pulls you closer to him, his fingers digging slightly into your skin through the fabric of your dress. He wanted you as close as possible, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

Your hands moved from his cheeks up to thread through his hair, slightly tugging it and eliciting a low groan from him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing yours. The world around you seemed to disappear as the two of you surrendered to the moment, the cool water of the pool forgotten as the heat between you grew increasingly intense.

Art pulled away from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting slightly. His eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of desire and disbelief. "You're really gonna mention another man while I'm trying to kiss you" he whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with a hint of jealousy.

“I thought you needed a little push to do that" you teased and Art kissed you again briefly "never do that again" he whispered 

The moment in the pool didn't last long after that, your parent messaging you a while after to tell you to get back to the car to go home. 

You and Art kept in contact through his first whole year at Standford but too busy to see each other, you with your last year of high school and him with exams and his tennis matches. 

So now you have one more reason to be exited about the gala of this year, you would see Art again and you couldn't wait to see what would happen this time. 

"You look beautiful" your mom says and you smile at her.

You are standing in your bedroom in front of a full-length mirror admiring yourself in your dress for the gala tonight. The dress is beautiful, hugging your curves perfectly and highlighting your features. You turn and twirl in front of the mirror, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves about tonight.

"Thank you, Mom," you say as she enters the room, a smile on your lips. "I just hope Art likes it too" you add, casually tossing the comment, before mentally kicking yourself for it.

"Please, he's already head over heels for you" she jokes and for the whole drive towards the Donaldson house your legs can't stay still, your hands fussing and stirring your dress over and over again making your parents smile teasingly at you, but you pay them no mind. 

Finally, the car pulls up to the Donaldson's house and your heart beats faster at the sight of the grand, familiar building. You take a deep breath, gathering your courage and excitement, before stepping out of the car, your dress flowing behind you like a gentle whisper on the ground. 

You walk with your parents toward the entrance of the house, the sound of your stilettos echoing on the paved path. 

You step in the garden of the house and Art's parents are already there to greet your family lovingly, Art still nowhere in sight as you walk around with your parents to greet their colleagues and friends and you're only waiting for Art to sweep you off your feet like every year. 

As you continue to mingle with your parents and their friends, you keep an eye out for Art, hoping to catch a glimpse of him among the crowd. The anticipation is driving you insane, and just when you're starting to wonder where he could be, you finally catch sight of him across the garden, talking to a group of people, a girl right beside him.

She is beautiful, dark skin and long black hair that reaches her lower back, long legs and thin body wrapped in a blue short but elegant dress... but what really shocks you is his hand, clearly resting on the small of her back. Your heart stops. Your breath short and you have to grip the champagne glass tighter in your hands to avoid letting it fall on the floor. 

You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Art, your Art, was standing there with another girl, his hand comfortably resting on the small of her back. You couldn't tear your eyes away from them, your thoughts racing as you tried to make sense of the situation.

Arts eyes meets yours from the other side of the garden and his grin disappears when he sees your sad face "oh there is Art" his mom says and gestures for him to come where you are. As he approaches, you can feel his gaze fixed on you, but you don't meet his eyes, looking anywhere but his face until he stops in front of you, his smile faltering when he sees the expression on your face. But before he can say anything, his mother speaks up.

"Art brought one of the promises of the future female tennis tonight" she says and she smiles, you don't. 

Art's mom gestures towards the girl beside him, a proud look on her face. The girl smiles sheepishly, looking shyly at you. Art shifts uncomfortably, his hand dropping from her back as though he's suddenly aware of what it looks like.

You force a smile on your face, despite the churning feeling in your stomach.

"this is Tashi, we met at Standford" he says, his eyes don't meet yours and the lump in your throat is too big to swallow. 

The introduction feels like a dagger twisting in your chest. Tashi smiles at you gently, her eyes soft as her gaze flicks between you and Art.

"Nice to meet you," she says, her voice soft and clear. You nod awkwardly, the sound of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears.

"The pleasure is all mine" the exchange of pleasantries feel like nails scraping on a chalkboard. Your parents politely greet Tashi like they do with every important guest at these events, but even you can see the fake smiles plastered on their faces. They know. 

She is gorgeous and you feel small next to her... you don't get it, your dress is more elegant than hers, more beautiful but she looks so effortlessly gorgeous in hers and you feel like crying. 

The silence that follows feels like a never-ending void. Tashi doesn't speak and Art doesn't as well, his eyes finally meeting yours and you look away immediately, the betrayal in your eyes makes Art's heart clench. Your parents try to make small talk with Tashi, Art's mom jumping in as well but you just stay quiet, your chest tightening and your breath short.

As the conversation turns to the weather, the upcoming year's tennis matches and other mundane topics, your thoughts spiral out of control. Your mind is a mess of thoughts and insecurities. Why did he bring her here? Why is his hand on her back like he owns her? And why, why is he looking at you like neither he knows why he did this?

"I think everyone is gathering in the lounge for the auction," your mom says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She glances at you, noticing the tension in your shoulders "come, let's go find our seats" she adds, gently placing a hand on your back to lead you away but as the other, Art included, starts to move you stay still and your mom does too.

"actually mom, I think I'll go home" your voice trembles and your mom doesn't know what to answer. 

"you want me to come with you?" she asks but you shake your head.

"no you stay with dad, but I need to go" and she nods. 

"we'll be home as soon as possible baby" you nod and in a moment you're outside waiting for your driver to come pick you up, you feel so lost. You thought everything was going well with Art, he's been nothing but sweet for the past year and he never, ever mentioned Tashi while talking about his life at Standford.  

As the air hits your face outside, you take a deep, shaky breath... You feel lost, confused, betrayed even. Art, the guy you've been in love with for so long, the guy who kissed you the last summer, is now bringing another girl to this event, acting like they're together.  

The minutes seem to stretch on forever as you wait for your car. You don't make any attempt to wipe the tears from your face, letting them flow freely down your cheeks. You feel like a fool, standing outside the Donaldson's house, dressed up for a night that quickly turned into a nightmare.

The sound of footsteps behind you is like a punch in the gut. You know it's him without even turning around. Art's presence is unmistakable and you feel him standing behind you even before he speaks.

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice soft and full of hesitation. You can feel his eyes on your back, studying you, but you don't turn around. The tears keep rolling down your cheeks and you don't have the strength to look at him right now.

Still, you shake your head in a no. 

Art's sigh echoes behind you, the disappointment he must be feeling evident in the single breath. He waits for a moment, maybe hoping you'll change your mind, but when you make no attempt to turn around or speak, he finally does. "Please, just a minute" he tries again, his voice pleading.

The desperation in his voice tugs at your heart, but you remain resolute, refusing to turn around. The memory of his hand on Tashi’s back and the sight of the two of them together flashes in your mind and you shake your head in silent answer once again.

"okay, fine" you hear other footsteps and a moment later he is in front of you, you huff in annoyance "you don't understand the signs, do you?" the tone of your voice is aggressive.

Art's eyes widen in surprise at the tone of your voice, clearly caught off guard by your sudden aggression. He opens his mouth to speak, but he seems unable to find the right words, unsure of how to respond to the hostile attitude. He takes a step forward, trying to reach for your hand, but you take a step back, preventing him from touching you.

"I understand you're upset-" he tries to speak, his voice measured but you cut him off. 

"Upset? Is that what you think I am?" you say, your voice a mix of anger and disappointment."upset that you brought another girl to this event, acting like she's the one you should be with? I'm not upset, Art. I'm hurt, hurt cause I thought what happened last summer meant something to you, hurt that in a whole year you made me believe that my feeling were reciprocated, hurt that in all those months you never, ever, mentioned a girl named Tashi and I'm hurt because I wasted a whole year of my life waiting for you!" you shout, and you think that for someone who didn't want to talk, you said a lot.

Art flinches at your words, your voice filled with pain and disappointment. He tries to speak but you don't let him, the words pouring out of your mouth like a dam breaking. "And you know what's funny? I actually thought that something would happen between us tonight. I was looking forward to seeing you again and then you come here with her like she's the one you've been waiting for all this time, fuck I feel so stupid right now" your laugh turns into a sob as you realize how foolish you feel. 

Art takes a step closer, his expression pained as he sees you unravel in front of him "you're not stupid" he says gently, his hand reaching out to cup your face instinctively, like he used to do a year ago.

"don't touch me" you say and swat his hand away.

Art's hand freezes and he retracts it quickly, the pain on his face is clear but he doesn't argue "I'm sorry" he says softly, his eyes watching you, unsure if he'll try to touch you again, "I never wanted this to happen, I mean it" he says, his eyes locked on yours, imploring you to believe him.

He takes another step towards you, now standing closer than before but not actually touching you "after we kissed that summer, I swear I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was looking forward to this night so bad" he says, his voice genuine and full of yearning "but then you told me you chose Harvard instead of Standford and... I don't know, we would be so far away and- me and Tashi, it's nothing serious" if when he started talking he felt stupid, now by looking at your face, he is sure of it.

"so you thought that keeping me on the hook for the whole year would solve everything, that you could have both of us?" 

He shakes his head "no that's not what I wanted" he answers immediately "I want you, only you... I'm sorry" Art's confession is honest and raw, his words a mix of desperation and regret "I never intended to keep you on the hook, I swear, I just didn't know how to handle things... I wanted you, I still want you" he hesitates, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again "but now I've messed up, I know. I really screwed up" he admits, his expression pleading for forgiveness.

Your car pulls up and you thank the god for the only good thing happening tonight "well, the good news is that I'm still going to Harvard so you can keep having... whatever thing is going on with Tashi" you say dismissively, the tears are still falling and right now you would love to be one of those strong women that can keep emotions under control, that can keep the eye contact with an emotionless expression and resist until they're alone to finally cry... but you're not, and you're sure you look like a mess right now. 

Art watches as your car pulls up, the sight of it bringing a new wave of desperation to his face. He takes a step forward, his hand reaching out for you again, but he stops himself, realizing that his touch is not welcome right now "please, we can talk about this?" he pleads but you brush him off. 

"Like I said, keep having whatever thing you have with Tashi" you say, your voice trembling, the tears keep falling down your face as you grab the handle but Art moves quickly, closing the door of the car before you can open it again. He stands in front of it, blocking your path, his expression determined "you're not going anywhere" he says firmly, his eyes locked on yours "we need to talk" he repeats, his voice steady despite the mess of emotions inside him. 

You can see in his expression how much he doesn't want you to leave but your heart feels like it's shattered into a million pieces and right now you're just tired "there's nothing to talk about" you say, trying to sound strong but the tears streaming down your face betray you "you were right Art, you have every right to live your college life with someone you can be close to, and I do too" you don't mean that, you know you don't. You want to be with him. But now you just want to go home and cry until you fall asleep. 

Art's expression falters at your words, hurt and disappointment etched on his face. He takes a step closer, the proximity making your body react despite the anger and pain "I don't give a damn about my college life" he says frustrated, his emotions raw and unfiltered "I wanted to be with you, I still do. Don't do this, please don't leave like this" his voice breaks slightly as he pleads you.

He reaches for your hand, grasping it in his, the feeling of his touch sending a shiver down your spine "don't run away from this, please" he says, his grip tightening slightly "we can work this out, just don't go" he repeats, his eyes pleading you to stay and talk.

"Art- please, I really want to go home" you sob and Art stills at that, his heart aches at the sound of your sob, the desperation in your voice breaking something in him. You sound so desperate and he doest know what to do anymore, if only he had talked about his insecurities sooner... 

He releases your hand, taking a step back to give you space, the conflict and pain visible on his face "I'm sorry" he says softly, his voice low and full of guilt. "If I could go back in time, I would do things so differently" he admits, rubbing a hand on his face in frustration.

You're not listening to him anymore, that much he can tell, he steps back, allowing you to climb into the passenger seat without another word. The defeat in his expression is clear, but he doesn't try to stop you anymore. The sight of you on the passenger seat, tears streaming down your face, is enough to convince him to not hurt you any further.

"I-I'll call you, ok? o-or you could call me when you're ready" he stammers but you don't say anything, you don't even shake or nod your head. 

Art stands there helplessly, watching as you refuse to respond to his words. The silence between you feels like a physical barrier, the pain and hurt creating a void that neither of you knows how to fill. He takes a deep breath, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I really am sorry" he says again, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. Still nothing, your eyes are fixed in front of him, "okay.. goodnight" he shuts the door and watches your car drive away, the taillights growing smaller and smaller until they disappear from sight. His hands curl into fists at his side as a mixture of frustration and sadness washes over him. He had messed everything up and now he was standing there alone, his heart shattered along with yours.

Art spends the rest of the summer trying to contact you: he sends text after text, voicemail after voicemail, begging for you to talk to him and try to fix things, but every time you see his name flash on your screen you feel a pang of pain in your chest and you end up deleting his messages without opening them.

At the same time, you're busy preparing for your move to Harvard and throwing yourself into the tasks at hand, anything to distract yourself from the thoughts of Art that keep creeping into your mind.

Despite your best efforts, the thought of Art is always there, lingering in the back of your mind. Every time you pack a box or organize your new room, memories of the times you spent together flash before your eyes. And even when you're with your new college friends, sharing excitement about the upcoming year, a part of you can't help but wonder what Art is doing and if he's just as wrecked as you are.

Every time your fingers hover over Art's name on your phone, a mix of longing and fear washes over you. You want to hear his voice, to pour out your heart and ask if he's feeling the same ache you are, but the fear of finding out that he has moved on, that he's happy without you stops you every time. You feel stuck between the need to reach out and the fear of what you might find.

The first two months at Harvard are a whirlwind of new experiences, but they're also marked by the new, completely absence of Art that stopped calling since the start of the college year. The silence from him is deafening, and the realization that he's moved on stings more with each passing day. Every time you think about him, your heart clenches as if the wound is still fresh. You try to push the thoughts aside, but the memories and the ache for him persist, refusing to let you fully move on.

It's a sunny October day, the sun is shining brightly, a warm contrast to the slightly chilly autumn breeze that brushes against your face as you're walking with your new friends, everyone chattering away excitedly about the upcoming autumn break. Your eyes are fixed on the path in front of you, as you're listening to your friends speaking, laughs loud and your smile genuine

"ok girls don't look now, but a really cute guy is looking at our Y/N right now, on the left, the one leaned against the wall" your friend's words catch your attention and you try hard not to look but curiosity gets the best of you and almost instinctively, you and your friends simultaneously turn to the left, your heads swiveling to catch a glimpse of the guy leaning against the wall.

The moment you turn, your heart stops. Your steps falter and your eyes widen as you recognize the figure standing there. It's Art. His eyes immediately connect with yours and time seems to freeze.

He smiles, clearly insecure, but smiles and you can see a mixture of nervousness and anticipation in his eyes, yours rakes over his body to take him in: he is wearing a dark blue quarter zip, a white shirt underneath, light blue jeans and white sneakers, his hands in his front pocket and his hair are messy from the wind going through them. 

"Do you know him?" your friend's question breaks the intense moment of eye contact between you and Art and you're snapped back to reality. You try to speak, but your mouth seems to have forgotten how to form words, the words are stuck in your throat, along with all the emotions that are now swirling inside you.

Your friends are looking at you, a mix of curiosity and confusion on their faces. One of them repeats the question, nudging your shoulder slightly to bring you back to the present. You swallow hard, still unable to find your voice, your eyes darting back to Art who's still standing there, watching you with a mixture of hope and nervousness in his eyes "uhm yeah, he is an old friend" you mutter.

Your voice comes out soft and a bit shaky as you finally manage to speak. You say that he's an old friend, trying to keep it casual despite the storm of emotions rushing through you. They exchange a knowing glance as they realize that there's more to your relationship with Art. 

"we should leave them alone, we'll save a place for you" one of them say and the others nod, you feel a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as you watch your friends walk away, their forms shrinking in the distance in the orange Harvard park.

 As you take a tentative step towards Art, time seems to slow down, each movement feeling weighted under his intense gaze. Your heart is beating faster, and you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You try to keep your expression neutral, but it’s difficult to hide the mixture of anticipation and anxiety that you feel.

His gaze never leaves your face, watching your every move as he moves away from the wall "what are you doing here?" you ask breathless and it's a miracle Art heard you. 

"I called you" he says. 

 You nod "I know". 

Art takes a few steps towards you "You never answered" there is no accusation in his voice and you nod.

"I know".

The silence hangs heavy between you "college life suits you, you look beautiful". 

"what are you doing here?" you ask and Art looks at his shoes before forcing himself to maintain eye-contact.

"I missed you" he answers immediately and suddenly the wall behind Art is really interesting. 

"you could have sent me a message, it would have been less expensive". 

"would you have answered me this time?" you open your mouth to answer him but nothing that would be the truth comes out.

"probably not" he laughs at that, but there's a hint of melancholy in that laugh, mixed with a tinge of understanding. 

"I guess that's fair" he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. He takes a moment to collect himself before continuing "I thought coming here was the only way to see you" he confesses, his voice softer now.

Your arms are crossed, a subtle barrier between you and him as you listen to his words. He looks sincere and a pang of guilt twists in your stomach when he mentions that he thought this was the only way to see you. You know you could have answered his messages or calls, but something in you wouldn't allow it.

"You could've answered one of my calls even if to just scream at me or to tell me to fuck off". 

You chuckle weakly "maybe I should have. But I was... I was really hurt and confused" you admit, your voice slightly shaky. He takes a step closer to you, the distance between you shrinking even more.

"I'm sorry" he mutters, he takes your face in his hands and you let him, he missed your skin in his hands, you nod, again.

"I know you are" you murmur.

"I love you" your eyes widens. 

Art's hands feel warm and familiar on your face, and you let him hold you. Your hands grip his sweater, holding on to him as if you're scared he might disappear. Tears start to form in your eyes.

"oh" you mentally facepalm yourself and close your eyes as tight as you can, you can hear Art suppress a laugh. 

"yeah... 'oh'... you should really work on a better way to react to good news".

"Art... what you said that night is true, we are so far away now and I don't want us to suffer the long distance" he shakes his head as you speak. 

"No, no I was wrong, never been more wrong. If there are two people who can do it is us" he assures you. 

"but what about Tashi?" you ask and Art takes a deep breath, his hands still holding your face. The mention of Tashi's name hangs in the air for a moment, and your insecurity is almost palpable to him. He looks into your eyes as he tries to find the right words to say. 

"I don't care about Tashi, I never did" he says firmly, his voice filled with conviction "all I care about is you and only you. You're the one I love, you're the one I want to be with. Tashi is nothing to me" Art's grip on your face tightens slightly as he speaks. His eyes search yours, attempting to convey the sincerity behind his words.

"I'm sorry about everything, I swear I'll do anything you want me to do! I can come here every week-end and we'll spend the vacations together or I can transfer here, I can play tennis here too-" your lips interrupt his ramble but he doesn't waste time to return it. Art's lips move against yours with a mixture of passion and desperation, as if he's finally found what he's been searching for.

As the kiss deepens, Art's hands on your waist pull you impossibly close, closing the already small gap between your bodies. You can feel the hunger and need in his touch, the months you've spent apart making the kiss even more intense.

"god- fuck, I missed you so much" his words against your lips are even sweeter than the kiss itself and you feel like melting in his arms, you missed him too "you have no idea how much I missed you" he mutters before capturing your lips again in a bruising kiss. 

Your cheeks are not cold anymore, your entire body feels hot with affection and you mutter an 'I love you' that makes Art pull back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he listens to the words you whisper. A soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he repeats them "I love you too". You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his hands on your waist keeping you closer than ever.

"you don't have to move here for me, we can make this work" you reassure him and finally a genuine and wide smile takes space on your face for him again. 

Art visibly relaxes at your words, the tension leaves his shoulders and he lets out a small sigh of relief "really?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. Your reassurance washes away some of his worries, and he allows himself to believe that it could actually work, that you could make it work despite the distance.

"really". 

"so we're okay now- ow!" Art winces as your hand connects with the side of his head, a mix of surprise and amusement on his face. 

"Now we're okay" you smile in victory. 

"I guess I deserved that" he says rubbing the spot where you slapped him. Despite the gentle reprimand, his eyes are filled with relief and happiness as he nods "yeah, we're okay now" he affirms, a warm smile spreading across his face.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Do not copy or repost.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson #challengers #challengers fic

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 15

part 1, prev part

note: yeah, this one's going to hurt

Dustin takes a few days before returning to the hospital again. Not because he fully wants to. His mom has been too busy to drive him and Steve’s not really available either. Between work and a period of really bad migraines, Dustin hasn’t wanted to bother him. Which is new to him, but they both could use the break.

This time off has actually helped him some. He’s focusing a bit more on school. Getting assignments done on time and paying more attention in his classes. He’s been able to sleep a little better. Can almost get through the night without waking up in a cold sweat.

It’s been better. So Dustin decides to go visit Eddie again.

Steve’s walking next to him, now up to visiting Eddie. Finally, over whatever was keeping him from even thinking of going into the hospital room unless he needed to. Dustin’s glad, it’s been helping him.

There’s a nurse asking Eddie some questions when they enter. And he’s responding. With words. Not just grunts or blinks. But actual words. Dusitn almost can’t believe it.

“What year is it?” the nurse asks.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Nineteen,” another breath, “eighty-six.” His voice is scratchy and dry.

“Great,” she marks something on her chart.

Dustin takes his seat next to Wayne, looking hopeful.

“What day of the week is it?”

Eddie closes his eyes, as if he’s trying to pull the memories from his mind. He shakes his head. Looking tired and agitated. The nurse marks another thing on her chart.

Dustin looks to Wayne, the joy in his face falling when he sees the anguish in Wayne’s eyes. There’s something more to this. Something’s wrong.

“Can you tell me what happened right before you came in here, Eddie?”

Dustin freezes and sees Steve tense out of the corner of his eye. Both of them looking to Eddie to see what he says. Knowing that he can’t say what happened. Knowing that he technically could. The NDA waiting for him is left unsigned.

Eddie huffs out a breath, struggling to inhale another one. Starting to peel off the bandages around his IV’s. Struggling, trying to sit up.

“Ed,” Wayne leans forward, trying to reason with him. “We talked about this yesterday. You can’t take those things off. They’re keepin’ you alive, son.”

Yesterday. This isn’t the first time. Eddie’s been more awake for at least a day and no one told him.

Dustin glances at Steve, seeing a mix of emotions on his face. Pain, worry, fear. A deep, rich sadness. Like he knows the words Eddie is going to say next. Knows how terrible they are.

“Fuck you,” Eddie exhales. The look in his eyes both blank and full of anger. He continues to pick at the bandage, succeeding in getting it off.

Wayne grabs Eddie’s wrist, pulling it away from his IV. “I know you don’t mean that.”

“Fuck,” breathe, “you.” The anger doesn’t leave Eddie’s face. Terrifying in how much is translated with how little is expressed. The tiredness holding his muscles back from properly emoting. Yet perfectly getting the point across.

Steve leans down to whisper in Dustin’s ear. “Maybe we should leave. Come back later.”

Eddie’s head lifts when he finally registers Steve and Dustin’s presence. A new flicker of something comes to his face. Just to melt off again. Back to the resting ghost that’s taken over.

“Out,” he snaps. Pushing his arm into the air and pointing at Steve. “Out.”

“I think it’s best you both leave,” the nurse interjects. Trying to hold the IV in Eddie’s arm as he continues to pull.

Normally, Dusitn would protest. Say that he needs to be here. That it would make things better. But it’s only a matter of time until the anger turns on him. He’s not sure he could take that.

Wayne has to pry Eddie’s hand away from the IV again, holding it close to the bar. Just like another cuff. Eddie’s using all of his strength to try and wrench it away. But he’s weak. Falls into the pillows breathless. Exhausted.

Tears start to form in his eyes as his face scrunches up. A soundless sob releasing from his throat. He tries to fight the nurse while she’s reapplying the bandage around his IV. Finally giving up.

Eddie opens his eyes again, finally looking at Dustin. Taking one more giant breath before saying the first thing to him since he died. Tears painting down his face. Pain indented in his eyes.

“Leave,” he whispers. Pleads.

Dustin stands and leaves the room, only making a few steps before his own sob breaks free. There was no look of recognition in Eddie’s eyes. No spark when he saw Dustin. Nothing to give him any solace that Eddie knew who he was. Knew what Dustin meant to him. Knew what happened in those last moments. As Eddie’s body crumbled in Dustin arms.

He remembered none of it. But it remembered him.

Steve pulls Dustin away from the hallway. Wraps his arms around him, holding the pieces as they fall. As the hope Dustin foolishly held shatters. He thought waking up meant Eddie was getting better.

He now sees how wrong that idea was.

They sit silently next to each other in the waiting room. Dustin’s tears drying on his cheeks. Steve not knowing what to say, so just not saying anything at all. It’s deafening.

Wayne finds them after some time. Sits across from them. Silent, until he clears his throat. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Dustin wants to respond. Ask what happened in the days he wasn’t here. But his mouth can’t seem to open for the words to form.

“Eddie,” Wayne continues. “Eddie’s goin’ through a bit of amnesia after fully waking up. It’s making him angry, and he’s fightin’ just because of the pain. It’s nothing against you.”

Dustin wasn’t in the room when Will was possessed by the Mind Flayer. He’s only heard the stories from Mike. How Will didn’t remember him that much. Could barely remember his own mom. How the monster took the memories and hid them away. Smothered them. Sequestered Will in his own mind.

Eddie wasn’t controlled by the Mind Flayer. Or anything from the Upside Down. Dustin had given El a picture of Eddie and asked her to see if he was the only one in there. That there was nothing lingering in the depths of his mind that would take him away.

It apparently didn’t need monsters to do that. Sometimes life did that for them.

“Do they know when, if, the amnesia will go away?” Steve asks. Dustin still speechless.

Wayne shakes his head, fighting the mist in his eyes. “Could be days, could be weeks. Won’t know until he’s more conscious. He’s still in and out of sleep, probably won’t be up again till tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Dustin can only hope that Eddie remembers him tomorrow.

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

#chills right to the marrow fic #stranger things #stranger things au #dustin henderson #dustin pov #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #no longer comatose #kinda #he still has a long way to go #jesus this fic is going to be long #pre steddie #everyone lives/nobody dies #tw amnesia #cw amnesia

[artificialbreezy]

Finding Her: CHAPTER TWO

AN: I hope you enjoy chapter 2! As always, this series contents dark content that may be unsettling to some readers. Please proceed with caution. Your mental health matters.

You can find chapter one here

You can join the taglist here

TAGS: @darling-millicent-aubrey @missduffsblog @thefallennightmare @as-above-so-below1000 @alastriaa @amelia-acero @eclipseeeetop @noahsbong @abiomens @lilrubles @badomensls @pathion @exephantom @honeytama @wild-child-7747 @areuirish @1toreyouapart @iluvmewwww75

WC: 1.4k

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Consensual non-consent, mentions of drugs (drugging a person and medical drugs), mentions of addiction, knife play, blood, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, stalking, dacryphilia, possessive Noah, slapping, mentions of abuse, Noah has a monster cock in this story, asphyxiation, blind folds and bondage (sexually and not), branding, impact play, cock worship, collaring, degradation, d/s, face fucking, gags, orgasm denial, pet play (if you squint), toys

DOLLIE'S POV

Staring at the letter in my hand, I couldn't help but shake. I was nervous, my apartment complex was safe. You couldn't get into the elevator without being checked in and approved. Who put these here? Why did they give me these? Maybe it was silly to worry. I must have met someone last night, and gave them my address. Yeah! That's what had to have happened. I sighed before grabbing the vase and moving it to my window sill in my kitchen. I may not know who sent them to me but might as well appreciate them, right?

I didn't let the slight panic from this morning stop me from my usual Friday routine. I threw my hair up, slipped on my sandals, grabbed my purse and headed to Jolly’s shop. I waved to the doorman on duty this morning and stepped out. Taking a breath of fresh air was all I needed to ground myself again. I was pulled away from my thoughts as I collided with the man in front of me. “Oh my god! I'm so sorry!” I spoke up, there was a quiet chuckle. “You’re okay, I swear. Sometimes I don't pay attention on my morning runs.” He spoke. “Oh! Dollie, right? You're friends with Nick. I was at the bar last night. I'm Noah!” My brain immediately went back to Nick telling me that Noah brought me home last night. A feeling of uneasiness came over me, until I looked from his fully tattooed chest and up to his beautiful brown eyes. Something inside me went from fear over a stranger being in my home, to the sudden feeling of safety. How did i go from panic to comfort by a complete stranger? I'm going to have to unpack that with Jolly as soon as I get to that coffee shop.

“Dollie? You okay? You seem a little in space now.” Noah’s voice brought me back down. “Oh, I'm sorry. Sometimes I just get in my head ya know. Um. Yes, I'm Dollie! I'm sorry I don't fully remember you. I remember you sitting down but that's about it.” Noah smiled down at me. Before I had much time to think, the words just came out. “I'm on my way to Jolly’s coffee shop. I usually help him out in the shop on my days off. If you want to join me, you're welcome too!” Noah nodded at me, “I’d love to, but I definitely don't want to overstep with you and your boyfriend.” I laughed at the thought of Jolly as my boyfriend. “Oh god. No! Jolly is in fact not my boyfriend. He’s just been my friend for years.” I saw a small smirk appear on Noah’s face. I reached down and grabbed his hand, “follow me, then!”

The walk to the shop was pretty quiet, but the shop was a 5 minute walk from my apartment. I pointed to the shop that was a couple steps in front of us, indicating this was it. “I didn't know Jolly owned this, knew he worked here but that's all. This is where Nicholas and I met Jolly. We come here every week before we head to the library around the corner.” My eyes widen, “I work at the library! I don't know how I've never seen you!” I spoke as I walked into the building, waving to Jolly who was behind the register. He smiled towards me and I watched his face change as he noticed Noah behind me. Mouthing later he nodded his head towards the end of the counter where I saw my drink already setting. Noah went up and ordered his drink, then worked his way by me. Reaching up, I sat my hand on his arm. “In 5 minutes, I'll be right back. I promise!” I mumbled before walking back into Jolly’s office.

As soon as I closed the office door I heard Jolly’s soft voice. “You two must've hit it off last night if you're bringing him on your help day.” Sighing, I was almost afraid my voice would give out. “Dollie, what happened? You're scaring me.” Deciding to not bring up the mystery flowers, I shook my head. “Jolly, nothings wrong. I promise. I quite literally ran into him, and invited him. I figured why not? He gave me a weird sense of comfort for barely remembering his name from last night.” He nodded at me and kept working. “Well go on, go talk to him. Fall in love and all that gross stuff.” He chuckled at me. “Haha, so funny! Shut up! I’ll work extra hard next week. Swear.” I spoke while crossing my heart, before walking out. I stepped into the dining area and noticed Noah was nowhere to be seen. “Dollie! That guy left this for you.” the barista yelled at me. The note read; I'm sorry, Doll. Work called and I had to run. Wish i could've said bye to your pretty face. Give me a call when you're free, and if you don’t. Well, then i'll see you thursday.

Walking into my apartment building the doorman handed me a letter. “Someone dropped this off for you right after you left earlier.” Smiling, I grabbed the letter and walked towards the elevator. There was nothing on the envelope but my name written in all caps. Ripping the letter open, I felt my heart drop. There was a polaroid of me this morning holding the flowers with Beautiful written under it. How did they get this angle? You can't see this from my window? This looks like it was taken in my living room. There's no way. No one was there, but me. Looking around the hallway outside the elevator, I saw no one and quickly made my way to my apartment. My heart felt like it was going to jump right out of my chest. This is weird. This is way weirder than I thought. As soon as I stepped through my door, I quickly locked the door. Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed my biggest knife and made my way through each room. Am I being overly paranoid? Maybe, but this dude took a photo of me inside my own home. I need to be cautious, just to ease myself. Maybe Nick or Jolly could stay with me for a couple days. No! That’s silly. My home is the safest spot for me. No one can get in here. I'm fine. I think the best way to handle my anxiety is taking Hydroxyzine. Can't be worried if i'm asleep.

It was almost too much. The feeling of his tongue on my neck, while he gently rocked his hips forward. Causing a groan to leave his mouth as I clenched around his cock. A silent way of begging for him to let go. “Please, Noah.” As if that was all he needed, he thrusted once more, before he filled me with his seed. The loud ringing of my phone ripped me out of the dream land where I was hiding. My phone showed a number I didn't know. Deciding to ignore it, I threw the blanket off of me. There was what felt like a puddle between my legs. I immediately pulled my panties off to see what looked like a man's cum settling. What the fuck? My phone started ringing again, that same number. Annoyed, I answered. “Hey Doll! I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Just wanted to make sure you got the note I left at the cafe.” I took a huge breath in, calming instantly. “Hi Noah! No not at all, I just woke up actually. You were in my dream, oddly enough” I chuckled out. Suddenly remembering my dream. “Oh god. Please ignore that. That was stupid to say.” There was a tone of embarrassment in my voice. “Please, I'd love to hear about it. Who knows, maybe I already have an idea.” He chuckled. “Excuse me? What did you say?” I mumbled out. “What? I said, I'd love to hear about it if you're comfortable.” When I did not respond to him he cleared his throat. “Doll, are you okay?” His voice was soft. Inviting, even. I don't know what came over me. This isn't like me. “I’m okay! I think I'm just a little tired. If it's okay, I think I should take myself back to bed.” There was a noise outside my front door, ignoring whatever response Noah said. My feet moved before my brain did. There was a piece of paper. Sat right in front of my door. Someone very clearly slid under.

You make the prettiest noises.

#finding her #noah sebastian blurb #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian headcanons #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fluff #bad omens fanfiction #stalker!noah

[ahhnini]

better things - cheater!ex! rafe cameron x reader one shot

synopsis - after rafe cheats on you, he wants a second chance. unfortunately for him, you’re onto better things now

warnings - rafe is lowkey an asshole here, arguing, cheating ( i don’t condone it!! )

word count - 1.2k

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

ask box is open!

tbh i love when my interests mix so here’s some aespa with a fic lol

divider credits - aqualogia on tumblr

initially, you had a rough time after the breakup with rafe. tissues from crying were littered all over your room, you ghosted your friends, and you’re pretty sure you sold out the ice cream from the local grocery store.

turns out, he had cheated. you should’ve known something was up when his text responses became dry, didn’t want to go out in public for dates, and was always on his phone.

when you received the text from him saying, “I need to talk to you,” you panicked. your text response however, remained calm. you both met up, he confessed he cheated on you and wanted to break things off. you tried your best keeping a poker face but he knew you too well, knowing you were about to break down. he then had the audacity to give you “one final hug” before speeding off on his bike, leaving you wallowing in your tears. he never even apologized.

now, here you are, sunbathing with a couple of your friends. it’s a small island, so you occasionally see rafe with his new girlfriend, sofia. or was it sofie? you honestly can’t remember, and that was good. you’ve moved on, healed, realized that you were only with rafe because he saw you at your weakest.

as you watch your friends go in the water to cool off from the heat, you notice a familiar blond boy walking along the beach, alone. you take a glance and lay down on your beach towel again, not paying attention to him. until he calls out your name.

you sit up, and rafe stands over you. you want to see if you can ignore him, so you just wave him off, but you hear him scoff. it was awkward, of course, your ex was standing right in front of of you after almost a year of no contact. you decide to speak up, breaking the silence, “yeah?” and he bluntly says “we…broke up,” your eyebrows furrow. “okay? what does that have to do with me?” you respond. he sighs, “can we talk in private?” “alright, make it quick”

you both walk to a more secluded area, and he begins speaking, “we broke up because of you,” he sighs. “because of me? what part do I play in your relationship?” you cross your arms, scoffing. “sofia thought I was still hung up on you, and she was right, I was,” he looks at you, there’s shame in his eyes, and guilt in his words. you couldn’t believe what he was saying. he continued, “listen, I know I cheated on you, it was a shitty thing for me to do. my head wasn’t right, and…I took you for granted.”

you roll your eyes and scoff again, “yeah, you did take me for granted rafe…you knew how much I loved you, you knew how much I cherished our relationship…for you to throw that away-” he interrupts, “I know, and i’m willing to give it another shot. if you would just let me-” it was now your turn to interrupt, “excuse me? do you know how ridiculous you sound right now? you were the one who broke my heart in the first place, and now you’re crawling back to me? i’m sorry rafe, I won’t ever get back with you. never in a million years.” he sighed, defeated.

he hated seeing you like this, so happy. after that day on the beach, he tried to talk to you again via text. and again, and again, and again, until you finally hit the block button on his contact.

your paths crossed again at the wreck, you were talking with someone, a new friend perhaps. you were smiling and giggling as you ate one of your fries. of course he noticed you first, and his heart leaped. he wanted to come up to you and strike a conversation again, but he knew he would just get shut out by you once more. he wanted to get out of the restaurant as soon as possible, so he ordered and anxiously tapped his foot while mr. carrera fulfilled his order. as soon as his number was announced, he took the bag of food and rushed to his car, not caring that he was being stared at.

it hurt his pride, of course. he knows he shouldn’t be reacting this way, he has no right to be acting this way. but god, did he miss you. he missed the way he basically had you wrapped around your finger, you were so willing to drop everything for him at the snap of his fingers. sofia wasn't the same. she set him straight, didn't enable his behavior, and he hated that. rafe always got things his way, he couldn't control sofia the way he controlled you.

word gets around fast in kildare country. it didn't take long for rafe to find out that you have someone new. he quickly came to terms that you've finally moved on. however, he wasn't prepared to see you and your new boyfriend in person so soon.

you were living your best life, your skin was glowing, and you had the best boyfriend in the world, jason. he was the juxtaposition of rafe, a breath of fresh air. you two were having brunch at the country club, watching some of the members out on the field, playing golf or also having a nice meal. as you take another bite out of your avocado toast, you see a familiar trio walk in. you really wish this island wasn't so small so you wouldn't see him that often. it annoyed you more than it bothered you. you put your toast down on the plate, then spoke to your boyfriend, "i'm gonna use the restroom," he nodded his head. you stood up from your chair and went inside the building.

while on your way to the restroom, you ran into rafe. it had been six months after you blocked him, and you resisted rolling your eyes when he waved and smiled at you. he started walking towards you, and you hoped he knew how much of a stupid decision he was making. probably not, you thought. he was now across you, and you hear him speak up, "how are you?" "fine," you say, dryly. "heard some things goin' around town." rafe says, trying to keep the conversation going. "yeah, I have a new boyfriend," your voice is monotone. "oh, does he treat you better than me?" he asks. you roll your eyes and try your best to not just walk away from the conversation.

"yes, he does, rafe. why haven't you moved on?" your voice was slightly raised, and he sighs, "you know why I haven't moved on. I need you, y/n. please-" "rafe. i've moved on. you should too." you start walking away to the restroom, and he looks at you, defeated. you knew your worth, and you knew you deserved someone better than rafe.

he took one last glance at you before going back to topper and kelce. he sighed as your words hung over him. you moved onto better things now.

#fanfic #fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x reader #obx rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe fic #rafe fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader #outer banks

[phas3d]

Bad Habits || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

summary :: cute and stupid things they do because i love fluff for some reason right now

DRACO MALFOY (saying "fun facts" that's common knowledge)

Being the smartest person in the room is the hardest thing ever, so thank GOD Draco is not him. He will run to you with full confidence to tell you about any new discovery he makes. It's new to him, but common sense to everyone else. But you don't have the heart to tell him it's basic knowledge because you know he'll never trust you again.

"You HAVE to follow me, it's the craziest thing EVER!" Draco said as he dragged you out of your dorm to run to the quad.

Whenever he's done this, you knew you needed to put on your best ever acting skills. You follow behind him, trying to predict what he'll say but before you complete those thoughts, he cuts you off.

"LOOK. AT. THIS!" He says as he points at the sky. You were confused, genuinely unsure of how to react since you weren't sure what to be shocked at.

"Oh wow uh, that's amazing!" You say hesistantly."

Draco was unsatisfied with your reaction, understanding that you had no clue what he was referencing too.

"Love," He paused for dramatic effect "Do you not see the MOON is fully in view during broad daylight?"

He said it with the highest confidence, somehow gaslighting you into genuinely feeling dumb despite knowing the moon is out during day time.

"W-Wow! You're so smart!" You say as an automatic response as he smiles, glad to teach you something.

"I know I am" He says, despite it not being in his personality list at all.

TOM RIDDLE (mocking you)

It is in Tom's blood to be mean, since he is he son of Voldemort. This caused him to have a tremendously hard time trying to make friends. Even when he acted as if he was a normal person, he would get tired and eventually snap to his true self: a blunt cold person. Because of this, he's not sure how to act in most situations since he has no clue how to react to most things. Thankfully, he has you to show him how to act.

When you two watch movies, he pays attention to you as well to see how to react. Or when you go out and talk with others, he copies your little mannerisms. It was cute at first to know that you're helping him adjust to society. But it quickly become annoying since he is extremely good at reading you.

It's gotten to the point where he can predict almost everything that you'll say, matching your tone, pitch, and even lisp perfectly. You could say nothing during a conversation and he'd be able to fill in the gaps exactly how you would.

"Tom-" You were interrupted.

"Where's my science notebook?" Tom mocks you, using a higher voice and over-exaggerating your harsh k's.

You sigh, which he also copied, before you playfully hit him with a small smile. "I told you to stop copying me!" You and Tom both say in unison.

"Your book is on your bed, hidden under your unfolded clothes. I recommend you clean it, I can tell all of your clothes are wrinkled already." He says as he flips his book to the next page.

"Oh shut up" You say as Tom copies you yet again.

MATTHEO RIDDLE (Annoying Tom)

Although Tom and Mattheo don't interact much in public, in private the two have a strong bond that can only be understood by each other. Their usual converstations consist of Mattheo raging about something, going into insane detail while Tom silently reacts whilst doing his homework. Then, Tom will give Mattheo a lecture on why what he did was fucking stupid which Mattheo spaces out to.

Since you've been with Mattheo for almost a year, you've been graced with the Riddle brother's bond, witnesses their odd converstations first hand. You've gotten used to it, blending perfectly in to their bond.

One thing that surprised you was the fact the Mattheo suddenly turns into the most annoying and needy person ever the second he's with Tom.

"Can you shut the fuck up and do your work?" Tom said, annoyed at the fact that you and Mattheo were sitting at his table in the library.

"It's not due until midnight! I'll just run to Snape's class at like 11:59 sharp." Mattheo said as he continued to make fake paper swords and shurikens.

"Okay sure do that, dumbass, see what happens." Tom mumbles, finally gave up on trying to convince his brother to do his work.

"You should listen to him~" You said as you flipped the page of your textbook whilst taking notes.

"Don't side with him! You're MY girlfriend!" Mattheo said annoyed by your words.

Tom smirked and nodded his head at you slightly, showing his small appreciation for you siding with him.

THEODORE NOTT (lying for fun)

He's basically like SZA, lying for fun because it's a good conversation starter. He first started doing this when he first came to Hogwarts because he wasn't sure how to start a conversation with someone. He would lie by saying he never had popcorn before or that he's allergic to dragon scales so people would be interested.

Now he's popular and has no need to lie for attention. But, it's an addiction. He can't stop making silly lies that are just borderline believable. But now he's widen his horizon, now he lies about history, teachers, other people, and more.

"Did you know Draco's mom is colorblind?" Theo said as he entered the Slytherin dorm. You sighed, already being able to tell he was lying since you knew him so well.

"Whaaaat?! Is she? Like for real???" Lorenzo questioned as to how Theo found out before himself, especially since he was raised by the Malfoys. "That makes sense why her outfits for funny lookin' sometimes."

"That's so sad man." Mattheo said solemly, as if Theo just said Draco's mom suffered from a permeant disease. "She sees life like those old ass Mickey Mouse cartoons. All black and white."

The three idiots looked down at the floor, feeling pity for Draco's mom colorblindness. you scoffed at their stupidity but suddenly Enzo spoke up.

"We should make her a get well soon card!" He said with a smile.

"Don't do that-" You were cut off by Theo's hand covering your mouth.

"No we should! Make sure you only use black and grey though." Theo said.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE (repetitive questions)

Although Lorenzo was the same age as you, he still trusted you way more than himself. You helped him pick everything, from outfits, food, dates, and more. Of course he would help too, but he just loved hearing your input since he wants to be the perfect boyfriend for you.

But, this habit of getting your approval for things started to sneak into schoolwork and paperwork. It started with him checking his answers with you, a completely normal thing. Then checking that his paper was the same as yours, also pretty normal. But as time progressed, he would ask you to double-check his stuff on dumb stuff like whether he grabs the 10th-grade paper or the 11th-grade paper, or what he puts in the "date" section at the top.

It's been even worse lately since he was applying for multiple colleges around the UK and US. You were doing the same, needing to desperately focus on your essays and studies to do the different school's entrance exams.

"(Y/NNNN)!" Lorenzo called out to you, despite you being literally 2 feet away from him.

"Yessss, Lorenzooooo?!" You said, giving the same energy back.

"Where it says "enter social security number" do I put my social security number?" He asks, full seriousness in his tone.

At this point in your life, you were so sick of this man so all you could do was stare at him until he decided to guess what he should do. You stare was strong, but his innocent eyes and cute face was overpowering you.

You weakly nodded, losing the one-sided battle. You thought it would be the last question from him, maybe he would get the hint you were annoyed.

"So, where it says "pick major" I put the thing I want to major in, right?"

#harry potter x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #harry potter #harry potter headcanon #harry potter fluff #slytherin headcanons