#<- this list is way too long will we ever know peace

[lizzobetumblin]

Melissa hated her feelings. 

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings. 

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name, 

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list: 

1.) Don’t cry.   

 2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking, 

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

 ‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion. 

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry. 

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow. 

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong. 

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that. 

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again. 

She carried that. 

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her. 

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’ 

She cried. 

She escalated. 

She took it personal. 

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music. 

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose. 

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too. 

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow. 

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks. 

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified. 

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power. 

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her. 

And she finally loved them back. 

[strawberrysturniolo]

just tonight pt 2

summary: you and chris are forced to discuss moments of your past when the night before changes everything part 1

I woke up with the sun shining far too brightly through the partly closed curtains. The hotel room air conditioner hummed as a chill overtook the room. I tried to pull the covers over me, but I struggled, dead weight on top of them.

I turned over my shoulder, finding Chris, knocked out. His lips were parted slightly, the slightest snore leaving his mouth. I would normally find this annoying, but he looks so peaceful. His curls are messy, flopping across his forehead, some strands holding a tighter curl than others. I want to play with them while he sleeps like this. 

His body rises a little bit through every breath. I’m in a trance, watching his movements. I don’t realize how long I’ve been staring, but it’s long enough for him to feel my stare burning into him.

His eyes open slowly, barely, before he shuts them again, closing his mouth and humming. “Good morning.”

His low morning voice sends chills down my spine in the best way. I mumble, “Morning,” in response, the events of last night playing on repeat in my head. 

He gives me a soft smile before lifting his head weakly, making his fatigue known. He places it carefully in my neck, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw before I feel his eyes shut, his lashes fluttering against my cheek. 

I can’t stop myself from wondering if we made a mistake. It was just a kiss, and it doesn’t have to happen again. We don’t have to take it further. 

But right now I feel our hearts beating against each other and all I’m thinking about is how great it would be to wake up like this every day. 

We lay alone with our thoughts until Chris’ phone rings, a call from Nick. He sits up straight, his back on display as the duvet cover lays across his lap. 

“How fast can you get dressed?” Chris asks me, stepping out of the bed.

I do the same, assuming we’re in a rush. “I won’t take long, why?”

He digs around in his suitcase, pulling a graphic tee out and pulling it over himself. “Breakfast closes soon downstairs, and you’re in all my stuff. The boxers only make this look worse.”

I lower my gaze to my bottoms - a pair of his underwear. They hang lower on my hips due to my sleep, and Chris’ eyes can’t move them away. 

“Yeah,” I nod. “You’re right.”

The morning goes on with me and Chris back with Nick and Matt. Things have unfortunately gone back to exactly how they were before this trip. I’m not sure what I was expecting. I don’t know why I thought things would be different, but I would be a complete idiot to think that Chris would ever not treat me like shit. 

“I was looking around at places we could take pictures later today if you guys are down,” I suggest.

As Nick peeks over at my phone, a groan leaves Chris’ mouth. One full of disgust. Nick gives him a look and asks, “What’s your problem?”

“The less time I have to spend with her, the better,” he comments. “I’m miserable enough having to watch her while I eat, not to mention having to sleep in the same room.”

“Well, at least this way you can prove to Santa that you’re not a naughty guy after all and you can be moved to the nice list,” Matt teases, trying to break the tension at the table. 

I’m embarrassed at how my mood has been ruined because of Chris. Ten minutes ago he was curled in my arms, kissing my jaw softly, and now he won’t look at me. 

The worst part is, even when we’re alone in the car, or alone in public, he still won’t look at me. 

I can understand him trying to keep things ‘normal,’ whatever that means for us, in front of his brothers. But for him to completely ignore me and blow me off when we’re alone is uncalled for. We still have yet to talk about what happened last night, no matter how many times I have wanted to bring it up. The first step is getting his attention, but he has no intention of letting that happen. 

When the day ends and we all head to our rooms, I silently get myself ready for bed, ignoring him, just as he did to me. 

As I’m standing in the mirror removing my makeup, Chris comes up behind me, leaning against the wall as he watches me. 

“Can I help you?” I ask with a snappy tone, trying to set him off just as he was doing to me for hours today. 

He sinches his eyebrows together, like he can’t believe I would ask that. “Something wrong?”

I scoff. “You tell me.”

I finish up in the bathroom and walk back out to the bedroom. Without realizing what I’m doing, I scoop up my belongings, stuffing them into bags and hooking the straps on my arms. 

His eyes go wide as he races over to me. “What are you doing?”

“Getting another room.”

“No,” he stops me, or tries to at least. He makes an attempt to pull the bag off my arms, but I yank it back.

“Get off of me.”

“What are you doing?” he asks again. 

“I’m not staying in here with you,” I say simply. 

“Why not?”

“You know why!” I shout. I have this feeling in my throat like I’m going to crumble any second. I feel betrayed, taken advantage of, used. I feel awful. Why is he doing this to me? 

“I’m sorry,” he says, doe eyed. “Please, stay here with me. We can talk, we can kiss again or–”

“No, Chris!”

He takes a step back, defeat lingering around him. “I don’t know what I did,” he says softly. 

I head towards the door. “Then you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Do you think I want to act that way in front of everyone?” he fights back. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted things to be different? I’ve thought every day about how we could change things. I would change things if you’d let me, but I was never what you wanted. You pushed me away time and time again, and the only way for me to get over you was maintaining what we did have. We had a light hearted, teasing relationship, and whenever I threw something back at you, you threw it back with ten times more baggage.”

“So this is my fault?” I challenge his claims. “You’re using that excuse to let yourself believe that ignoring me all day as if you weren’t in my arms this morning was justified?”

“Please,” he mumbles. “Put your bags down.”

He looks at me like he’s on the verge of exploding. Like the dam is seconds from breaking. Like he needs me.

I toss my shit on the floor and stand in front of him, waiting. 

“None of this is your fault,” he promises. “None of it. I shouldn’t have treated you like this today, but after last night, I didn’t know how to be around you and them and act like I wasn’t daydreaming about you laying with me all night. I kept picturing you in my lap, kissing me. I wanted it all day. I wanted you. Every time I think I have you, you’re gone.”

I’ve never left him. His brothers are my best friends. Even when Chris is a dickhead, I still love him. I would never want anything but good things for him. 

“I would never leave you guys, Chris.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Chris, we used to be closer than anyone,” I remind him. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how to be your friend anymore in the way we were. You won’t let me be that for you anymore.”

“I do,” he insists. “Please, just hear me out. Don’t go anywhere.”

I let out a sigh at his desperation. Before I know it, he’s leading me to the bed.

“Prom senior year,” he starts. “Your date didn’t show up.”

He promised he wouldn’t mention that again.

“Chris–”

“It was Nate’s idea,” he interrupts me. “He told me to step in, and I finally had the balls to. I was running down the street to the store in a fucking tux. I ran in and got you flowers, and when I came back you were gone. Everyone was gone.”

My heart drops. No one ever told me why he was late to prom that day. No one told me he was making an effort for me. Everything would have been different. 

“You were gonna take me to prom?”

He swallows harshly as he nods, like he’s partly embarrassed for letting me know he failed, but that he’s proud of himself for trying.

“A few weeks later you came running into my room with the biggest smile on your face. You pulled my headset off while I was playing a game and made me guess why you were so giddy. I couldn’t guess, and you told me he asked you to be his girlfriend. The same guy that made you cry because he stood you up at prom, you were now his girlfriend. I felt like fucking shit. I tried to clean up the mess he made that night, and when I failed, he still won you? How was that fair?” he asks me. 

I don’t have any answers for him. 

“Then you spent the whole relationship telling me how awful he was,” he reminds me. “I was obviously going to be there for you if you needed me, but any time we were together, I had to pretend like I wasn’t interested. I had to try to respect your relationship with him, even though I hated him for making you miserable. I hated watching your smile fade and I hated that it was because of him. I did everything I could to cheer you up, and it worked, you know it did, but when you guys broke up, I thought it was my chance. You had no interest in me. It was so obvious. I just lost any hope of there being a chance with us, and the only way for me to get over that was to push you away.”

His words pour out of his mouth in a deep confession. Memories of us come flooding back into me like it was yesterday. Every look he gave me, every touch, every word shared.It’s all there. 

I can’t help but hate my ex even more for keeping Chris from me. 

I’m not mad at Chris anymore, but the frustration coursing through my veins masks my confusion for anger. And I aim it at the wrong person.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I thought you knew!” he shouts. 

We both stand in silence, staring at each other as our chests heave, trying to regain our composure. 

I shake my head, completely in shock at his confession. I used to cry to Nick, wondering why his brother was so mean to me after everything we shared together. He went from being the most important person to me to someone I barely knew. 

I feel like an idiot for wasting so much time trying to hate him when in reality he was trying to protect me from anything bad in the world. 

He couldn’t help it that he couldn’t catch up.

My face presses to Chris’ chest. I don’t know the moment I flung my arms around him and refused to let go, but the feeling of his heart beating against me brings me peace again, just like it did this morning in bed. 

“I called the hotel,” he says. “I changed the reservation.”

I pull back from his chest, staring up at him.

“If that makes you uncomfortable, and you want to go stay with Nick, I completely understand,” he says. “I didn’t think we were going to kiss. I wasn’t planning on making any moves. I just wanted us to be friends again. I wanted you back in my life in the right way.”

My hands hold his cheeks as my lips desperately search for his. His arms wrap around my back, holding me as close as possible. The kiss is rough, both of us trying to gain dominance. I pull back from him to catch my breath, staring at his glossy eyes. The guilt is written on his face. The secrets he held from me for years. 

“You could never lose me, Chris,” I assure him.

He rolls his lips into his mouth before licking his lips, basking in the taste of us. He nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. Fear takes over him before any sense of hope can. 

“We’re going to be okay, I promise.”

It was his idea to sit in bed and watch cartoons, and we did just that for the rest of the night. It was my idea to order room service. We laughed in that bed, sharing innocent kisses that were stolen from us over the years. I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything take that from us again.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?” he hums in response, his fingers tracing over my back where it had snaked up his shirt that was hugging my skin, just as it was the night before. 

“We won’t ever be just friends.”

He pauses for a moment before he responds.

“Good.” 

tag list: @secret-sturniolo @chrisloyalgf @strnilo @draculaura123 @jellybeanbby @bridgetteauria @qwertytit @55sturn @sleepysturnss @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnvvz @zoieisabella @swaggygirlboss123 @angelworldspost @patscorner @ducksturniolo @mattitties @luv4kozume @mbbsgf @freshloveforthefit @ripmattitude @gamermattsgf @strniololoverr @urmom2bitch @sturnitup @luvmila444 @st7rnioioss @sturniolosreads @1201pm @pepsiskiess @alorsxsturn @sturniolopepsi @sturnsgasoline @sturns-posts @sstvrnioloo @strawberrymilk4k @ratatioulle @kiibichio @nickmillersn1gf @milesfordays11 @l9vesick @mattsturnzzz09 @mattnchrisworld

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #nicolas sturniolo

[winterarmyy]

Thin Walls, Thin Lines

What will happen if a fuckboy falls in love with a hopeless romantic?

Summary: Modern society surely had corrupted the mind of the hundred-something year old man, Bucky Barnes, when he seemed to have forgotten the art of courting a lady. Lost in lust and pleasure, he had been indulging with endless array of different girls on his bed almost every night. And the opposite side of that thin walls of his room, lives a hopeless romantic who he was madly in love with.

Navigation: Original Version || Deleted Scene* (alt. ending)

Pairing: fuckboy!bucky x female!reader

Words: 4.9k++

Warnings: avenger au, explicit language/contents, angst, lil bit of drama, fluff, please bare with the fuckery of bucky barnes, reader is sensitive yet quite fiesty too. i can't backup steve on this one, he is on his own.

A/N: As you can see from the navigation bar, we have two different endings for this fic, because I am greedy and indecisive. The original version ended with fluff and the deleted scene (alternate ending) ended with absolute filth of a smut. So... enjoy! 💕

P/S: And this is also my submission for @jessybarnes 's writing challenge. I have chosen "Kiss me again" from the prompt list and I hope you like the way I used it in this fic!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N has always been a hopeless romantic. She dreams of a love like the ones she read in books. She craved someone who loves her so deeply that she could never find peace in anyone else but him. She wanted all the love songs and poetry to be reminders of him; his beauty, his charms.

Fresh flowers, stargazing, coffee dates, kisses that tastes of cotton candy, warm cuddles, and every little things in between; she longed for it all. She dreams of a love that is so consuming until all that's left in that small bubble of infatuation is their entangled soul mending each other to the bone.

That's what makes her a hopeless romantic.

And very much the opposite of her was Bucky. He is an infuriating flirt. There's not a day goes by that he doesn't call her with sickeningly sweet nicknames; doll, gorgeous, princess, darling, you name it. He will definitely drop some suggestive lines at any given chance and most of the time when she least expected.

He can charm anyone just by his presence, and if you're lucky enough to get one of his infamous smile; then you best believe that you won't be going home alone that night, or able to walk proper the next morning. He is the typical playboy you know and hate; very often she'll see different girl in his arms or on his bed. And that man seemed to not know when to stop. Sometimes, she do wonder if he ever got tired of sex. Because she knows for certain that he can go on and on for hours, daily.

"Fuck,, that's it. Spread your legs for me. Yeah, 'atta girl."

Speaking of the devil.

This has been recurring for months now. It seems like the man never sleep because his voice would always wake her up. She couldn't decide what was worse; between being forced to hear the sounds of the skin slapping, the bed creaking, him groaning and her squealing or being a super light sleeper that even a whisper in her room would jolt her awake.

Y/N let out an annoyed grunt when she swoop her head under the pillow, hoping to silenced the noises even just a little bit. Surprise; it didn't help at all. Her body cringed and her face contorted into a squint when she hear the other woman announcing her release as the headboard hits the wall a little harder, a little faster.

Bucky Barnes sure is a fuckboy but unfortunately for her, he is also the man she fell in love with.

She refused to show it, but lord knows how much her heart simply swell to the sight of his smile. Despite the flirtatious tendencies of his, there was something about him that attracted her like a magnet; or like a moth to a flame.

Maybe it was his old soul, or maybe because she saw glimpses of timeless charm in him; the way he moves, the way he gazes, and the way treated her. Nevertheless, it was such a devastating thing for someone like her to fall for someone like him.

The last thing she wanted in a man, is to look at her like she was just a good fuck and nothing more. She just couldn't imagine herself to be tied with someone like that. And Bucky was exactly that someone.

Y/N haven't been able to get more than 2 hours of sleep for months now. The lack of it had caused her to drastically lose physical strength and lately fatigue has been a constant presence as well.

So she decided to go the medbay to consult Dr. Cho about it. After running some tests, she sat her down for some Camomile tea as she went through the results, "It seemed like the severe lack of sleep had took a really heavy toll on you."

Y/N sighed as she place the tea cup on the back on the table, "Yes, I am well aware of that. That is precisely why I am here."

"Nightmares?" Dr. Cho speculated.

If the definition of nightmare is 'the moans of the man, that she had a crush on, fucking someone else next door' then, yes. She was having long and nearly endless nightmares for months now.

"Something like that." She lied.

"Then, I have some medication that I can prescribe to you. You should take it daily after dinner and..." Before Dr. Cho managed to finish her instructions, Y/N quickly asked, "Is it possible to fix me without meds?"

Dr. Cho frowned curiously, "Why wouldn't take meds? That's the quickest way to help for your situation, as far as I know." she asked.

This was not her first rodeo; she had troubles sleeping back when she was merely teenager. And the last time tried using meds, she ended up almost overdosed herself from it, "It's just... I prefer not to." she evaded.

Dr. Cho nodded understandingly before clarifying the current situation, "Well then, I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do for you. Though some research suggested that meditation routine before sleep can help. Or putting up some natural ambience like the sound of rain or waves--"

Y/N wasn't really listening after the first sentence. Because all she could thought of was how much longer she can bare with this and what will it take for her to finally snap.

Y/N was dying. At least it felt like it.

With her deprivation of sleep and the intense combat training she had to go through today, her patience was reaching it's limit. After visiting the medbay 2 weeks ago, she had tried to approach Bucky about it but he always took it lightly.

There was series of insincere apology followed by a cheeky promise to 'keep the tone down' for her. But nothing changed. She asked him again and again; days gone by he didn't live up to the end of his bargain.

For those past week, Y/N had resorted to sleep in the living room for most of the nights. How she dreaded to leave her comfy bed but she could no longer tolerate the sounds coming from the other side on the wall. Though she still jolted awake from time to time due to how uncomfortable it was sleeping on a couch, but at least she got more than 2 hours of sleep if she was to compare to the nights she slept in her own room.

It's not she didn't notice it at all; she knew exactly how and why it happened. The habit of microsleeping that she developed during the course of this training. The slowed reaction time, the lack of energy, she can feel it. But, there was nothing she can do about it.

The only cure for this was to get some rest. A proper rest. And that can't happened, not without Bucky's cooperation.

When Y/N was marching towards the sargent who was sitting way across the gym; she could see how his eyes undress every piece of her clothing, how his tongue rolled out and his teeth sunk into his lips.

She wasn't even wearing anything remotely provocative but here he was lusting over the way her hips sway especially when he was the one she's walking towards.

The moment she stood in front of him, his mouth lifted into a smirk, "Yes, princess. How may I be of your service?" His voice was sultry and the way he towers over made her slightly nervous for no reason.

Her heart fluttered, yet her lips refused to form a smile, "Don't call me princess."

"I apologize, my queen." Bucky gave her a cheeky smile.

Y/N didn't want to drag this any longer than she should, so she quicky jump into it and said, "So you know how I’m like-"

"-absolutely embarrassingly in love with me? Yes, I'm familiar go on." Bucky cuts in. If panic ever rose in her chest, then she was doing an incredible job of hiding it, "Can you just shut up for a second and take me seriously?"

His eyes glint with flirtaous mischief when he replied, "Doll, you know the fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me."

Y/N simply sighed before she began to rant, "I really don't have the mood for this banter with you, Barnes. I just want you tone down your nightly routine. It is because of you I've been having trouble sleeping and--"

He quickly stopped her before she nags even more than she already did, "Okay, okay I get it. We've been through this, doll." Bucky's face lit up when he suggested, "How about I help you sleep, hmm? I may know a thing or two about tiring someone out." There was surely something unholy in those steel blue eyes of his.

And Y/N picked it up rather quick, but considering the amount of times he had insinuate something more than just a friendly banter, then of course she knew exactly what he was suggesting, so she simply replied, "No offense, Barnes. But, I don't do one night stand or no strings attached thing. And with a manwhore like you? No, thank you." sassy was her answer.

Bucky's head tilted back as he laughed, then when he spoke his voice was like a devil luring an angel to sin, "Oh babydoll, if I were to be a whore, it'll only be for you." He stepped closer so that only she can hear his confession.

His masculine scent hits her nose, mixture of the citrus cologne and his natural odour was just perfect. Annoyingly alluring; but perfect. And it took all her will to hold it together and blatantly rejects him, "Still not interested."

Bucky groaned in protest, "Come on, princess. You can't keep dreaming for some prince charming to court you, do you? You know that's probably never going to happen right?"

Surely he meant only to tease her; that it was less likely that an actual prince to romance her. Not that she did not deserve the world; she does. And Bucky was more than will to burn it to the ground if that's what she wanted.

But, Y/N didn't see it that way. She thought that Bucky meant that she is not worthy enough for a decent man to court her with respect and chilvary; that she was just a toy fit for fucking and nothing more. And the fact that her "insomia" had affected her usually high patience and reduced it to almost paper thin, it was only fair for her to finally snap.

She can tolerate his endless flirtation but she can't simple turn a blind eye for his insult.

Bucky was caught by surprise why Y/N harshly grabbed him by the collar, pushing him back and nearly stumbled; her eyes was pure fire when she growled, "Don't you dare mock the way I value relationship, Barnes." Her nose flared with anger and the commotion has attracted some prying eyes towards the two.

"Just because you enjoy fucking anything that breathes, that doesn't mean that everyone else does." She seethed, "The only cock that will be wrecking my pussy would belong to someone I love and if you have a problem with that, you can fuck right off." She forcefully pushed him until his ass landed on the bench behind him.

Her feet stomped all throughout her exit out of the gym, leaving Bucky in a blinking confusion.

He knew it was wrong.

It felt good. It felt right.

But, it was so fucking wrong.

To keep moaning Y/N's name when he railed those strangers to heaven; when he came so hard into the thin layer of condom. And it was always a soft and slow type of whimper, right in those girls' ears. So intimate, so careful not to let his secret out; knowing how thin the walls between him and the love of his life.

But, he certainly didn't care about the girl he was fucking. If it wasn't for his heavy body pinning her from behind, she would've elbowed him right in the guts for moaning another woman's name. Unfortunately for him, she quickly ditched and see herself out after the first round.

Now, he laid there; naked and bare. Thinking of how he simply couldn't help it. How could he not think of Y/N all the times? Not when he was deeply, helplessly in love with her. But, he knew she wouldn't bat an eye at him now that he had the reputation of a "fuckboy", as the young ones describes it. She especially made it clear today at the gym. She's never going to give him a chance now.

Not when she's a hopeless romantic. And the fact that he too was once the same was just aggravating to him. He was such a gentleman decades ago; before Hydra, before the war, when he was but a young man living Brooklyn.

His Ma had really shaped him into the perfect gentleman; every parents in the neighbourhood wanted him as their son-in-law. They claimed he would make the perfect husband for their daughters. But, things are different now. And he knew that the man he was before was long forgotten.

It was just curiosity at first; about how sex works in the 21st century. However, Bucky quickly fall into the promises of lust and pleasure; changing girls like changing clothes. He let himself dosed in ecstasy, as if it was a drug to silenced the dark and haunting memories of his past, like it was a quick escape from reality, from the Winter Soldier.

Then, Y/N happened.

Bucky never saw it coming; but, he fell. Hard.

They were colleague for years and had been a good friend he can rely on besides Steve. She was so sweet and pretty. Probably the most gorgeous woman he ever laid his eyes on, in the hundred something year old life of his. Most importantly, she was kind and patient and strong and fierce yet so unforgivingly selfless. 

But that didn't matter now, does it? Especially when she despise him. And it was all because of the unholy title he held.

At first Bucky didn't notice it, but now that he stepped closer into the living room, he heard it again. The rustling fabric, the quiet whimper coming from the sofa. His steps were as careful as a wolf on a hunt, stalking a hiding prey in between the trees.

If Bucky were to guess what he would find on a late night trip to the kitchen, he would've probably said 'ice cream' and not 'Y/N sleeping in the living room'. His eyes briefly raked her sleeping figure, curling uncomfortably into the pastel purple blanket. Then at the scattered pillows on the floor around her.

Why was she sleeping in the living room?

Another whine passed her lips and his attention was locked on her frowning face; it seemed like she was having a bad dream. Bucky carefully crouch next to her, and ravel in her beauty. Such delicate features, long lashes, pretty freckles across her nose, and those soft looking lips; he would kill just to taste her them, to sink his teeth in between them.

It worried him though; to see her sleeping here. She was clearly uncomfortable, it was a mystery that she managed to even fall asleep in the first place. Bucky suspected she simply passed out due to today's training. It was particularly hard, even for him. Let alone a normal human being like Y/N.

Not to mention the fight that they had.

Then, it clicked. The complains about how she had trouble sleeping. It wasn't just to make fun of him or tease him in any way. It was a plead. She needed to be heard and he completely blew her off with jest and jokes.

"Was it because of... me?" Bucky thought to himself. It all made sense now, "Shit." A curse rang in his mind when he bit the insides of his cheek. He was mad at himself. How could he be so insensitive? And he claimed to love her? Please. What an absolute piece of shit he was.

When Y/N began to toss and turn, her blanket fell from her body. Even in her sleep, the cold managed to catch her. She instinctively curled towards herself, seeking warmth but was no avail.

She look so small and Bucky felt a surge of need to cuddle her close, keeping her safe, keeping her warm in his arms. But if he does that, he'd probably get kicked in the nuts. So instead, he picked up the fallen blanket lay it back across her whole body; carefully not to disturb her sleep.

Bucky smiled softly when she snuggled into the fabric and before he walked away, he swore to stop this corrupting habit of his and apologize for being such a douchebag to her. And if he's lucky, maybe he could even properly court her.

But for now, he just needed to go through tommorrow's mission. So does everyone one else in the team.

"Do you realized what you have done?" Not matter how hard he tried to hold it back, everyone in the Quinjet can see how Steve was seething.

Y/N's lost of sleep had took a toll on her more than she realized now that it had affected her performance in mission. She tried to ignore the way she was basically seeing Steve's feet multiply by the second, and continued to look down in shame, "I'm sorry, Captain."

"Don't apologize to me. Nat's the one who got shot because of you!" He yelled as he pointed at the red haired woman at the side of the plane.

No matter how much she wanted to blame Bucky on this; how he literally robbed her from fulfilling her human needs to rest at night, but she just couldn't. It was her fault that Natasha got hurt. If she was more alert, she would've seen the enemy standing right in front of her. If she was awake enough, then Natasha wouldn't get hurt.

Tears threatened to form when she looked over at her dear friend, bleeding at the side, "I'm so sorry, Nat. I really am. I didn't know what came to me and I--"

"Oh please, I'd take a bullet for you any day of the week, honey." Natasha swiftly cuts into her apology, in attempt to diffuse the heated situation.

But, Steve totally disagree with her, "Don't make this 'okay', Nat. You almost died because for her carelessness. Being inadequate shouldn't be okay for any agent to do. It is extremely reckless and downright stupid."

There was a sound of a distant gasp from the pilot pit, "Language!" Tony was clearly trying to lighten up the mood but it failed rather miserably when no one reacted.

Steve had every right to be mad, especially when his girlfriend was injured because of this, but oh does it hurt to hear his stabbing words. It hurts more when it comes from the Captain America himself.

God, she was extremely tired.

Physically, mentally and that's what happens when a person is lack of sleep. Then when she thought about all her hardwork and struggles to train amongst the superhero themselves, she couldn't help but to crack; and the tears that was building up in her eyes finally fell.

When Steve saw it, he lost it completely, "Oh, you're gonna cry now? WOW. Real mature, y/n. You can't disappoint me more can you?" At that point, he was being a little too mean for anyone's liking.

Especially Bucky.

So Bucky slowly pulled Y/N back, and shielded her body behind his as he went on face to face with his bestfriend, "That's enough, Steve." He warned but Steve doesn't seem to get the idea, "No, Buck. Do you see--"

Bucky took one step closer, his menacing glare went right through Steve's soul, "I said... that's enough." He repeated his words. This time the message went through.

Steve gulped and cleared his throat as he waved a dismissing hand, "I expect a full report and a letter of apology from you when we get back, y/n." He ended his sentence with his back turned and then walked away towards his girl.

When Bucky turned around to face Y/N, she was but a crying mess. Tears kept streaming down and her lips quivered in so much sadness. Now, that she was in the light, Bucky could see the darker shades on the bag of her eyes.

This was his fault. If he just stopped goofing around and listen to what she had to say yesterday, she wouldn't need to go through this, "Oh sweetheart..." though he meant to call her in his mind, it might just slipped through his lips.

Y/N glared up at him, "This was none of your concern, Barnes." She spat.

He shrugged, "Well, lucky for you, I don't care whose it is. What I know is I care about you. Now, let's get that wound patch up." Bucky simply said, and that was when she realized that her ribs were slashed open, bleeding and torn. Maybe it was not too deep, that was why she didn't notice it.

But it is an injury nonetheless, and it was a surprise to her that Bucky noticed it. "I don't want your help." She frowned yet continued to sniffle.

"Yeah, but you need it." He replied as he carefully tucked the loose strand of her hair behind her ears.

Unable to think of any comebacks, she let her fatigue win over. Her lips shut tightly and her chest shuddered for breaths. And when Bucky took her hand in his and lead the way, her body instantly responded by gripping him tight.

Bucky's heart soared at the touch of her small hand in his, while fire was burning in hers.

She hates him. She hates how caring he can be. She hates how soft he was when handling her. And she hates how easy it was for him to make her fall for him even more.

Y/N's body quickly went on auto pilot; she let him undress the blood soaking top and patch her wounds. And Bucky let her cry her heart out on his shoulder all the way back home to New York.

That night when everyone had settled back to their own rooms, Y/N was prepping to sleep outside again. It was like a schedule for Bucky to always fuck whatever his frustrations out when they finished a mission.

And she doesn't want to hear any of it. Not tonight.

Thankfully, her wounds were mostly healed thanks to Dr. Cho and her ingenious of a machine, Cradle. That thing fixed the teared tissue right up with its regenerative  functions.

Now, Y/N just needs to endure the bruises but those are bearable. What she couldn't bear is the lack of energy and goodnight's sleep. She wished to just pass out for days and not wake up even if a prince came to kiss her to wake.

And she knew that sleeping in her room won't give her that.

Y/N piled her pillows and blanket on top of another before scanning the room one last time to make sure she didn't leave anything behind. Because she was not planning to step foot in her room until dawn comes, hoping the sounds from the other side of the room died down by then.

When she was walking pass Bucky's, she noticed how awfully quiet his room was, but she didn't think about it too much. She waited for the elevator to open its door only to reveal the man himself, "Barnes."

He eyed how Y/N's figure almost hidden behind the piles of pillow in her hold. He stepped out as he asked, "Where do you think you're going?" Bucky knew exactly where but he was not having any of that.

It was weird to her that she didn't see any sign or Bucky's hook-up in his arms, but she bet that there will be one after she's gone downstairs, "Away from you, that's for sure." She said, taking a step into the elevator but instantly stopped the moment Bucky blocked her path.

Bucky lips flatten against each other; he didn't say anything, he only frowned down at her then simply grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to her room.

Utterly confused, "What are you doing? Hey, let go of me." She twisted her wrist in his hold, while trying to balance the pillows from falling. A useless trial it was; because who could even escape that metal grip of his.

Bucky quickly respond, "No. You're not sleeping on that shitty sofa tonight." He stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to her, "You're injured, y/n. You need on a proper rest on a proper bed." He coaxed.

How did he know that she had been sleeping on the coach? She thought before saying out loud, "I'm fine, Barnes. It's not even that deep of a wound, the Cradle fixed it clean. So, can you just... let go of my hand?" She sighed.

But Bucky refused to even spare her a glance, he silently tug her and stomp his way towards her room. There waa retaliation on her side, but his lack of response had lead Y/N to her defeat. She begrudgingly followed his long strides until she they stood by her bed.

He snatched each of the pillows and blankets off her hands, while Y/N simply blinked speechlessly as she watched Bucky started set up her bed like he had been doing it everyday.

Weirdly, at times like this, she found him extremely lovely. There was no corny and flirty comment about her, or his annoying habit of teasing every little thing she does.

There was just a comfortable silence and a kind gesture; the type that pulled the red strings of her heart just enough to make her want to dream of him.

Fucking hell, she can't believe that he managed to do that again! Making her fall for his antics. He really needs to stop doing that, it's simply rude.

Y/N broke from her love struck trance when she felt his cold metal laced around her hand again, he pulled her closer, "Now hop on, bunny. You need to rest." He lead her under the blanket and she grumbled curses under her breath, something about he need stop calling her weird nicknames like that.

When she was well tucked in and comfortable, Bucky sat at the edge of the bed by her side and spoke, "I'm sorry. For not trying to listen to you at the gym yesterday. I was a jerk."

His apology was so sincere that Y/N caught herself in a shock. Who is this man? What has he done to Bucky Barnes?

His eyes lingered to the wall behind her bed as if he was trying to find the right words to address it, "About the noises..." he trailed, "...it'll stop from now on."

Oh. Nevermind. She liked this Bucky. She wants to keep him forever, "Really? You mean it?" There weren't any effort put to hide her excitement when her voice nearly squeaked.

Bucky chuckled amusingly at her reaction, "Really, doll. But, you gotta promise not to sleep on the couch again."

Sparks of joy filled her chest when he confirmed his decision. Sure, it was such a small favour to do to anyone. But, she appreciate his efforts to make amends. "Hmm, I promise." She hummed happily, blinking slow as the comfort of her bed lured her into a drowsy state.

"Thanks, Bucky." Her mentioned his name.

Thank god for the super sensitive hearing ability, cause Bucky surely love the sound of her voice whispering his name so softly, "For apologizing or for tucking you to sleep?" He jest.

It only made her eyes rolled to the side and a smile spread across her face, "Both." she said. "And for what you did on the jet."

Bucky simply shrugged as if it was a normal thing to do. But, it wasn't. It was rare for him to challenge Steve like he did. And he did it for her, "Really, I owe you one." She said assuringly.

A playful smirk pulled on Bucky's lips when he spoke "Doll, you shouldn't be saying that so carelessly. Who knows I might use it for despicable things." Surely, he love to be the cause to bloom those red shades on her cheeks.

But it didn't happened when she asked quietly, "Will you?"

And the silence that came after was heavy with tenderness while their eyes spoke the truth to one another. As the thin lines in between got blurry, for once, there was just streams of genuine feelings pouring out of them, leaking through and contaminating the air with its magic.

Would he? Take advantage of her?

How could he though? He loved her too much to even think of purposely hurting her. "No." Bucky replied as he leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead, "Sleep well, princess." He mumbled against her skin.

And he pulled back, he grinned a cheeky smile. There it was; the pink blush on her face, wide surprise of her eyes and her slightly parted lips. She looked so adorable. He swore couldn't get enough of it.

"Kiss me again..." she nearly growled, but her blushing on her face didn't indicate anger, "...and I will choke you in your sleep." Though it was an attempt to threaten but typical of Bucky to just love to turn things around, "Hmm, is that an invitation, princess?" He purred and stole another kiss; this time, on her cheek. "Then, I will be looking forward to it." He whispered as quickly as he removed himself from the scene.

When he found his own bed, he couldn't help but to laugh at the muffled scream coming from the opposite side of the thin walls, "James. Fucking. Barnes!!!"

End.

Alternate ending (smut edition): Deleted Scene >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I hope you drop some thoughts behind before going to the deleted scene. Which I know you will. See you on the other side 👀

#jessybarnesreaches500 #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky #fuckboy!bucky #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #thin walls thin lines au

[bhaalble]

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.

#long post #again i want to be clear because i think wyll fans are a little understandably defensive of him #this is not about wanting wyll to be a bad person #its about wanting him to have an arc that parallels the rest of the companions #and be more firmly centered on HIS feelings and choices #ive done my best to preserve wylls canon temperament here #just give the circumstances more teeeth #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #wyll ravengard #mizora #ulder ravengard

[strwbrrymlkjh]

alhaitham x gn!reader

entering a romantic relationship with alhaitham the scribe was one thing but expecting, hoping, to maintain that kind of relationship with alhaitham the acting grand sage was another. or alhaitham asks for another chance.

tags: texts in italics are flashbacks. POV changes. angst, neglected reader, lack of communication, mention of alcohol consumption, inaccurate lore, i have no idea what alhaitham does as the acting grand sage, maybe ooc, not proofread

wc: 2.2k

AO3

An unmistakable mop of silver hair greets you as you make your way through the hallway of your tenement. Sensing your presence, the figure turned his head to your direction and locked eyes with you. The intensity behind those familiar green eyes instantly rooted you to your spot. One look at his face was enough to bring back the painful memories you tried so hard to bury for the past month.

°

Entering a romantic relationship with Alhaitham the Scribe was one thing but expecting, hoping, to maintain that kind of relationship with Alhaitham the Acting Grand Sage was another.

Ever since his reluctant acceptance of the position of Acting Grand Sage, you rarely saw your boyfriend at home. In fact, you barely see him at all. You understand that he was preoccupied with rebuilding Sumeru and the Akademiya, yet you cannot help but miss his presence; the slow mornings where he would enjoy the cup of coffee you prepared for him, the peaceful afternoons that you would spend together reading in your living room, the dinners filled with pleasant conversations as you recounted your day. You miss him.

The sound of your front door closing jolted you awake from your nap. Sitting up from your spot on the couch, you greeted your boyfriend who just arrived home.

“Alhaitham. Welcome home.”

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“I was reading, actually. I just closed my eyes for a second, and then dozed off, I guess.” You responded, chuckling weakly.

“I recall telling you not to wait for me.”

“I know, but -” I miss you. You cannot bring yourself to tell him. He was already burdened enough as is, and the last thing you would want to do is to add to his worries.

He sighed and offered his hand for you to take. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

°

“Haitham, are you free tomorrow? It’s been a while since we visited the Grand Bazaar."

“I apologize Y/N, but I cannot come with you. I still have to review these research projects in need of funding.” He gestured to the thick bundle of papers that littered his desk.

You offered him a smile. “Alright. We can always do it next weekend.”

°

“I think I can make it in time for dinner tonight.” Is what he said.

You have no idea how long you sat in your dining room waiting for him. The food you prepared was now sitting cold at the table. Glancing at the clock, you felt a sad smile tug at your lips. Another missed dinner. You let out a heavy sigh as you started clearing away the plates you carefully arranged hours ago.

Alhaitham is a very busy man, and with everything that’s going on in the Akademiya, you knew better than to ask him to do things you used to do together.

At this point, the growing list of broken promises were too many to count.

Soon enough, all the pleasant dinners turned into late night meals eaten alone and the once warm bed became your only witness of the cold nights and the silent mornings you endured on your own.

°

After what felt like an eternity of staring at each other, he took a cautious step towards you.

“Y/N.”

Pretending you didn’t hear him, you bit the inside of your cheek and fished for your apartment keys inside your bag.

Once again, you hear Alhaitham call out your name.

You are certain that if you bite any harder, you would draw blood, but it was the only way to keep your barely composed façade from cracking.

A warm hand held your wrist as you were about to unlock the door. Startled, you pulled away as if burned. You rubbed the area, a nervous habit.

Even at a distance, you wouldn’t miss how the light left Alhaitham's eyes after seeing your reaction to his touch. The apology was at the tip of your tongue - you did not mean to pull away, you were just surprised, you wanted to tell him.

Your gaze traveled from his crestfallen face to his disheveled hair, sunken cheeks and the out-of-place cape. Looking at him now, you are certain that nobody would be able to tell that the man before you is the intimidating Acting Grand Sage of the Akademiya.

Despite yourself, you wanted to reach out and touch his face, card your fingers through his hair, wipe the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You clenched your fist at your side to stop yourself.

A month ago, you left your shared apartment with a promise not to get pulled by his gravity again. You feel your resolve falter now that you’re in his orbit.

Green eyes met yours once more and you felt your cheeks heat up. You averted your gaze and headed for your apartment door.

“Wait, Y/N. Please. Can I talk to you? Ten minutes. No. Five. Five minutes is enough. Please, I just need to tell you something.”

You stopped in your tracks. The desperation that laced his voice reminded you of the moments when you had to fight for even a minute of his time.

°

“It was one date Y/N.” Alhaitham reasons out. “Do not make it a huge deal.”

You turned to him, a look of indignation on your face. “One date? It’s our anniversary Alhaitham. Is it really too much to ask for one dinner with you?” You exclaimed. “I looked like a fool. No, I felt like a fool waiting for you to show up. You did not even think about telling me that you couldn’t make it.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to you. “I apologize, but you are well aware that I have more pressing matters to attend to at the Akademiya.”

You did not think that your heart could break any further. You have known it for a while now; his duty always comes first.

°

Alhaitham knew that he did not have the right to be here and his presence was likely to hurt you. It was nothing new, he thought grimly. It seems that that was all he has ever done these past few months - cause you pain.

He unintentionally drove you away and now he was here, consumed by regrets yet filled with determination to do better. That is, if you give him a chance to do so.

It seems the odds are against him as he watches you rub the wrist he touched. It was one of your nervous habits. It could also be that you were trying to erase the lingering feeling of his skin making contact with yours, a voice whispered in his head.

You stood unmoving after he practically pleaded you to hear him out and it was enough to give him a sliver of hope.

He cleared his throat. “Have you been well?”

“You came here to ask me that?” You responded, the disbelief evident in your tone.

“No. I mean -” He closed his eyes tightly, willing his headache to go away. The lack of sleep was getting to him. This was not how he wanted this to go.

Gathering the will to speak again, he continued, “You weren’t answering my letters and I simply wish to know how you have been faring.”

No, these were half-truth, excuses. If he really wanted to earn another chance, he should start with being honest with you, with himself. So, he said, “I am sorry. I wanted to see you. I missed you, Y/N.”

The silence that followed his statement was deafening. He watched you study his face before he heard you ask, “Are you drunk?”

“I did have a couple of glasses at the tavern, yes. But I assure you, I am completely aware of what I am doing at this moment.” He answered honestly. “I am the worst, aren't I? I do not even have the courage to face you sober.” He bowed his head, a weak smile tugged at his lips. “Sorry, I’m just - I really am sorry.”

“Is that the reason why you’re here? To share your newfound drinking habits?” You responded coldly.

“No, I do have my reason.” He raised his head to look at you behind his blurry eyes and the sight took his breath away. “But … were you … were you always this beautiful?” He blurted out before he could stop himself. Though, it was not the alcohol speaking. It was the truth. The sun was setting behind you and it bathed you in its glow, casting a halo around your head.

He felt himself struggle for a silent breath as he took his time taking you in. “You are so beautiful, my love." The term of endearment hangs between the both of you.

You shook your head. “You’re drunk, Alhaitham.”

“I’m not.” He insisted. “I’m not. It’s just … I can’t believe I hurt someone this beautiful so deeply.” And in a quieter voice, as if talking to himself, he whispered, “I’m such a fool.”

He knows he cannot win you back like this; not with flowery words and praises of your beauty. Still, he wanted to tell you that and many other things he was not able to.

Panic welled up inside him as you shook your head and unlocked your door. Chasing after you, he had half the mind to hug you from behind to stop you from leaving. But he knew he shouldn't push his luck right now, if your reaction earlier is anything to go by.

"Y/N, please."

You turned to him. "Then, enough with the nonsense Alhaitham. Just say what you have to say and leave." Your tone was calm but he heard the slight tremble in your voice. Even now, he was hurting you without meaning to.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he said, "What I wanted to say is that I am sorry. I know I have countless things to apologize for and I … I cannot express how sorry I am. The word 'sorry' is not good enough." He looked down, ashamed of himself, a Haravatat scholar not having the right words to convey his intentions.

He wanted so badly to tell you how much he regrets taking you for granted and to let you know that since you left, all he could think about is you. Even when he somehow manages to stop doing so, everything he looks at seems to hold a piece of you and you invade his thoughts once more, as if you never left in the first place.

Your favorite mug sitting untouched in the kitchen cupboard reminds him of the coffees you used to make for him. The books gathering dust at his study bring back memories from when you would sit beside him, warm body pressed against his as you read your own books. The bed which was too big for one person makes him think about how lonely you must have been, spending those cold nights and silent mornings alone.

He lays awake at night in that same bed, haunted by the defeated look in your eyes the day you decided to end your relationship, or what's left of it. You were tired of fighting for a place in his life, you said.

The logical part of him argued that you were both better off this way. As long as he was the Acting Grand Sage, he knows that he cannot be the man you need, the man you deserve.

But here he was, hoping that you would still have him, because there's no one else for him but you.

"I - I am so sorry." He has no idea how many times he has uttered that word now. "For taking you for granted, for not fighting for you, for letting you go so easily. Y/N, I love you so much. I don't think it's possible for me to love anybody else." He confessed.

His hands itched to wipe the tears that streamed down your face. Gauging your reaction, he took a tentative step forward. "I know that I have no right to ask this from you, but Y/N … can you let me stay by your side again?"

°

Your heart was racing, everything around you was spinning. Contradicting thoughts were swimming inside your head - you wanted to say yes because you still love him, but at the same time, you wanted to push him away because you're afraid of getting hurt again.

You did not notice the tears freely cascading down your face until a hand wiped them away. Looking up at him, you said, “I don’t know Alhaitham. With the way things are between us …” You trailed off.

He reached for your trembling hand and brought it to his lips. “I never stopped loving you, even if my actions made you think otherwise. Let me prove it to you.”

Seconds pass without any response from you, Alhaitham speaks again, "You do not have to give me an answer now. Take all the time you need. I can wait." His grip on your hand tightened before letting go. “You should go inside now. It’s getting late.”

You nodded absentmindedly. He took a step back and you instantly missed the warmth that his body has to offer. You stepped inside your apartment, but for some reason, you cannot close the door while he is still there.

“Thank you for hearing me out. I meant every word I said, Y/N. I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

thank you so much for reading! comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated ♡♡♡

#genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #alhaitham #alhaitham angst #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #genshin #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact alhaitham #genshin alhaitham #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #tags are hard

[lazycats-stuff]

Hi, this is my first time asking here I really love your work and also the whole reason me going into the DC fandom really... Anyway, back to my request can you do like a fluffy interaction with the batfamily when child (male or gn) reader told them that they had a "boyfriend" at school.

Not entirely sure if this is really you're cup of tea and if not you can ignore it.

:D

Oh this is my cup of tea, don't worry. And I got you into DC fandom? I hope you like the fandom so far.

Summary: (Y/N) is slowly growing up. Bruce and the others can't handle it.

Warnings: fluff, Bruce and everyone is emotional, just pure fluff everyone, Titus makes an appearance

The family has been going through a rather tough time recently. (Y/N) has started going to kindergarten and they couldn't see him for almost the entire day. Bruce knew it was important that (Y/N) starts socializing with children his age.

Bruce knew that is was important for (Y/N) to do it and he needs to get over all the child sicknesses. Such as chicken pox and some others. It would build his immunity system and make him stronger. And it was difficult the first day.

Everyone was emotional that first day. All of them barley kept it together as they walked (Y/N) to the kindergarten, more so to the place where he would be spending time until he needs to go to elementary school.

(Y/N) was nervous at first, but Bruce assured him how they would be back to get him back. The brothers all said goodbye and nearly broke down when (Y/N) left and everyone, including Alfred broke down in the car.

" He is growing up so quickly. " Jason said as he was wiping his eyes, trying not to cry fully.

" I know. " Dick said, not even keeping his cool anymore. Bruce and Damian didn't cry, but they were definitely sad about the fact that they couldn't see their brother anyone. Tim was just quiet as he sniffed quietly and Alfred simply looked ahead, outright refusing to cry.

Everyone went on with their days and once they were done with work or school, they would pick up (Y/N). (Y/N) was happy to his family once more and he just wanted a hug from his dad.

And he wanted to be carried by his dad. It was their tradition after all. Soon, Bruce had to update the list of people who could pick him up and included everyone in the family, besides Damian. The kindergarten policy made it clear that you needed to present ID every time you want to pick him up.

Bruce had to admit, he was impressed with the sheer security of the kindergarten and the way that they made sure that nobody unauthorized or somebody who had more sinister motives could get in. Thankfully.

(Y/N) has been going for a few months and he liked it very much. He has made a few friends and Bruce couldn't be happier. (Y/N)'s brother's were happy too. (Y/N) was happy, liked going there and had fun.

What more could they ask for? Nothing more.

As long as their brother is happy, so are they.

It was all going to be fine.

Well, that fine turned into pure confusion when (Y/N) was home. It was a Saturday. (Y/N) and the family was having a family night and (Y/N) was watching a movie in his father's lap, enjoying the contact from his father. Bruce covered his son in a blanket, making sure it was warm. It has started snowing a few hours ago and it was perfect.

More importantly, it was peaceful.

Until (Y/N) started to speak.

It was all fine.

" I forgot to tell you something! " (Y/N) declared as he sat up upright. Bruce glanced at (Y/N) and hummed at him, showing him that he had his attention.

" I have a boyfriend! "

Those four words made Bruce's head spin and he swears he hears that he has heard something crash in the kitchen. Jason spat out his water, coughing the rest of it out. Dick wept and Damian froze. Tim blinked a few times.

What the hell?!

" I'm sorry, what do you mean by that? " Bruce asked as he got some of his composure back. (Y/N) smiled widely and Bruce had to make sure he didn't fall down.

" I have a boyfriend! We hold hands and do everything together! " (Y/N) said loudly and Dick wept louder. Jason took a deep breath and Damian blinked a few times. Tim just drank his coffee. Nope. He is too pumped with caffeine to even think about it.

" What's wrong with Dick? " (Y/N) asked, looking at his brother who was weeping. Jason gave Dick a hug and Dick was mumbling the words so quickly and grow up. In not really particular order actually.

" Nothing (Y/N), you know how he gets emotional. " Bruce explained and (Y/N) let out a little huh. Bruce wanted to cry really, but he couldn't. His son was growing up too soon, but growing up is normal.

It's going to happen eventually.

Sooner rather than later.

" Come here. " Dick said as he wiped his eyes. He stood up and took (Y/N) into his arms, hugging him. His brother can't grow up. No. It's completely wrong and not- No.

(Y/N) can't grow up. No.

(Y/N) was confused as to why Dick would cry. Why? Is he sad? Why would be sad?

" Why are you said Dick? " (Y/N) asked and Dick finally found it in himself to chuckle. He gave (Y/N) a kiss on the cheek.

" I'm not sad baby bird. "

" Then why are you crying? When you are sad, you cry. " (Y/N) stated and Dick shook his head fondly.

" Sometimes, when you are so happy, you are so overwhelmed with happiness that you just start crying. " Dick explained and (Y/N) let out a little oh, leaning his head on Dick's shoulder.

Dick sighed as he sat down on the couch and Alfred finally made his way into the the living room.

" Master Bruce, did I hear correctly? Master (Y/N) has a boyfriend? " Alfred asked, clearly not wanting to believe it. His youngest grandson has a boyfriend?

" Yes, (Y/N) has a boyfriend. " Bruce confirmed and Alfred sighed quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose. His grandson will send him to his grave. Early grave, mind you.

Jason sighed as he wanted Dick to hand (Y/N) over to him. His brother can't have a boyfriend now. He is a baby in his eyes and he can't have a boyfriend or a girlfriend for that matter until he is about 30.

That is a reasonable age to have a boyfriend. Right?

" Should I open up the scotch? " Alfred asked and Bruce smiled at the suggestion.

" Later Alfred. "

" As you wish master Bruce. "

" Dad? " (Y/N) asked from Jason's arms and Bruce felt something warm in his heart.

" Yes? "

" Can we go out to play in the snow? Pretty please. " (Y/N) asked and Bruce nodded in agreement.

" Of course we can. But you need to make sure that you are warm. You can't get a cold can you? " Bruce said as he picked (Y/N) up from Jason and (Y/N) let out a little hurray.

" He is too pure for this world. " Damian said once (Y/N) and Bruce left the room to bundle up. and there was something that everyone could agree on. Even Jason and Damian could agree on that phrase.

Titus wagged his tail as he whined for Damian to open the door to the garden. Damian did so and Titus started playing in the snow. It was weird to see such a black mass in the white snow.

Titus almost looked like a demon and then that image was gone when (Y/N) ran over to Titus. Titus was very happy, tail wagging like mad, but still remained calm and gentle with his little brother. Bruce watched as (Y/N) ran around, making angels and throwing snowballs at Bruce.

Titus would also run for snowballs that the two would make, considering that they couldn't find his tennis balls to throw. He was confused at the way the would disappear, but still came back for more.

" Maybe we have overreacted. " Dick said and everyone agreed in a certain way. (Y/N) is a child and he probably doesn't know the meaning of the word. But they know that sooner or later they will have an actual boyfriend on their hands.

Hopefully that will never happen. Hopefully.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #red hood x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

[parkerslatte]

Finding Home || Part Four

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: homelessness

Summary: Azriel admits to Y/N that he doesn’t want to rush the tasks and he is shown a glimpse of her good faith.

Finding Home Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

For the second morning in a row, Azriel awoke on Y/N’s couch. His neck was positioned at a weird angle and his wings held a dull ache. But he couldn’t be happier. The scent from the kitchen wafted over to him as he opened his eyes. Quiet humming came from the kitchen that seemed to awaken his shadows, they rose around him before slithering their way into the kitchen. Despite his still tired disposition, Azriel followed. 

What he was greeted to was the sight of Y/N spinning around her kitchen as she prepared a breakfast that could rival anything the House of Wind could create. Azriel couldn’t understand how she had the time for this, it was still early in the–

“Good morning, Azriel,” Y/N greeted. “Or should I say good afternoon? You have slept the whole day away.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. He was not sure when he had ever slept past six in the morning. Seven was considered a lie in for him. But as Azriel looked out of the large bay window, the sun was high in the sky. Despite it being winter, it looked pleasant outside. 

“I’m making some lunch, if you want any,” Y/N said, serving some food onto a plate. “But for you, it would be considered breakfast?” Her teasing tone forced Azriel to send a playful glare her way.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Azriel questioned as Y/N passed a plate of food to him.

Y/N shrugged. “You looked peaceful and I didn’t want to interrupt that.”

“I don’t normally sleep past seven,” Azriel stated.

“I could tell,” Y/N remarked. “Those bags under your eyes were clear of that.”

Y/N placed her plate down on the countertop. Azriel watched as she walked forward and gently placed her hands on his upper arms. At that simple touch, Azriel felt some of the tension in his body fade. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Look,” Y/N said and spun him around to face a small mirror on her wall. “The bags are not completely gone, but they have faded. When was the last time you had a decent sleep?”

“Too long,” Azriel said, his gaze fixated on his reflection. 

Before now, he had not realised how tired he was. If it were a typical day for him, he would wake and immediately begin training, not giving his body a chance to catch up to his exhaustion. He hadn’t felt this well-rested in a long time.

“If I knew how tired you were, I would have let you sleep in my bed, not on the couch, that could not have been comfortable for your wings,” Y/N said, sitting down at the small dining table in the bay window, perfectly fit for two people.

“I wouldn’t have allowed it,” Azriel said. “I am simply taking advantage of the situation I have found myself in.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

Azriel let out a quiet laugh. “Well I get free food for starters.”

“You’ll pay me back,” Y/N stated.

“And how would you want me to pay you back?” Azriel questioned.

Y/N shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

Azriel raised the fork to his mouth and took a bit of the food. He hummed in appreciation, closing his eyes and appreciating the various flavours that burst into his mouth. 

“What is this?” Azriel asked.

“Another recipe my father used to make me,” Y/N said. “I only make it on special occasions.”

“And this is a special occasion?” Azriel asked.

“Yes,” Y/N stated. “Because you have ticked another thing from the list.”

Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think I have. We have only ticked off two? Coffee and dinner.”

Y/N sighed. “Honestly, Azriel, have you even read the list?”

In complete honesty, Azriel hadn’t. He had skimmed a couple of the tasks but hadn’t read beyond the first few properly. 

Y/N took his silence as his answer. “Number twenty-six, lie in.”

“That is seriously a task,” Azriel asked. 

Y/N held the list in her hand, Azriel having no idea where she had plucked it from. “Yes,” she said. “Have a look.”

Y/N thrust the list into Azriel’s hand and he focused on it. There it was, number twenty six. Something within Azriel was not too pleased. Three tasks down and it had barely been twenty four hours. Rhys had given him three months to complete all thirty tasks and if he continued to keep them up at the rate he was, he would have them done in not even two weeks. Too quickly for his liking. 

From the meeting with Rhys to now, Azriel had changed his outlook on the tasks. He wanted to do them. And he was enjoying himself immensely. The height of elation he had reached over the past twenty-four hours had been higher than he had reached in the past five years. And one of the main reasons was the female sitting across the small circular table. 

“Three down!” Y/N exclaimed.

Azriel forced a smile on his face, he hoped that it was convincing, but from the way Y/N’s face seemed to fall, it definitely wasn’t.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, she placed her hand on the table and Azriel noticed her hesitation as she inched it closer. His hand rested not far from hers and he only wished that she would place it on top of his. The feeling of a caring touch was all Azriel craved. 

But his wish did not come true as Y/N slowly inched her hand closer to herself and settled it back in her lap. Azriel couldn’t help the disappointment that washed over him. 

“I just…think we are going through these tasks fast,” Azriel admitted.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Y/N asked. “You didn’t seem too thrilled when you were given them. I thought getting them done and out of the way would cheer you up a bit.” Azriel furrowed his eyebrows. “From the looks of things, it's doing the opposite.”

The words Azriel wanted to articulate were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t get them out. How do you tell someone you just met that you have had more fun with them in twenty-four hours than the past few years with your family? If she took those words the wrong way, then there was that slim possibility that he would scare her away and Azriel would be back where he started, wallowing in misery. 

Instead Azriel opted for a simpler reason. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

Y/N’s face lit up and Azriel felt something within him stir. He was the one who had put that expression on her face. 

“Well that is good, because I really enjoy spending time with you too,” Y/N replied. 

There was something about that ‘really’ that brought out a wide smile on his face. Y/N seemed to mimic it as she leant her head on her hand.

“And I really enjoy when you smile like that,” Y/N said. “It suits you.”

Azriel continued to smile.

***

Despite the nippy weather, Y/N had suggested the two take a walk. After Azriel’s confession of wanting to slow down the tasks, they decided that the task ordering Azriel to take a walk, didn’t count. Their walk was just two friends spending time together, not completing mini missions. 

Y/N was once again wrapped up in her coat, scarf and gloves. Azriel laughed at her as she piled them on before leaving the apartment. Y/N only glared at him before stepping out to face the cold. 

The two walked side by side in silence, but Azriel felt no pressure to fill it. Simply being in Y/N’s presence was enough to keep him content. Any shop they passed, Y/N would sometimes point something out in the window she liked. There was something about that expression on her face that made Azriel want to immediately walk in and buy it, but he knew that Y/N would only march back in and return it in front of him. 

“Oh,” Y/N said, her hand shooting out to stop Azriel in his tracks. 

Azriel was immediately on alert. His shadows span out and scanned the area. “What is it?”

Y/N, noticing immediately his changed demeanour, rolled her eyes. “It is nothing bad, you oversized bat. I can just smell pastries.”

Azriel relaxed as he reeled his shadows back in. As he did so they gently caressed Y/N’s calves. If she noticed she didn’t say anything so Azriel didn’t mention it. 

“Come on,” Y/N said, linking her arm through Azriel’s. 

When the two made it to the bakery, Y/N went in while Azriel waited outside. It was packed and he didn’t want to crowd the space even more with his wings. And some of the questioning looks he was given made him refrain from even trying to enter. 

As he leaned against the wall waiting for Y/N, he felt a tap against his mental shields. He sighed before lowering them.

I trust you have started on the tasks, Rhys questioned.

What would you do if I haven’t? Azriel questioned.

Nothing, I suppose, Rhys said. Despite what you might think, Azriel, these tasks are meant to help you. You haven’t been yourself in quite a while. We thought you could do something that wasn’t court related. Give you a break.

I was fine doing my duties, Azriel said.

Azriel heard Rhys sigh. Look, Az. All of us are worried about you. We just want to help.

Azriel didn’t respond for a while but he could tell that Rhys was still in his mind. He made sure that he didn’t accidentally reveal anything about Y/N. He didn’t want his family to know about her. At least not yet. 

I have made a start on the tasks, Azriel replied.

Are you enjoying them? Rhys asked.

I–

Azriel stopped as Y/N walked out of the bakery and to Azriel. 

I need to go, Azriel replied. I will talk to you later.I

With that, Azriel slammed his shields back up, blocking Rhys out. As Y/N approached him, he smiled at her in greeting. 

“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I bought you a few things anyway,” Y/N said, peering into the paper bag. “And I was thinking we can go back to my apartment and relax for a while. Of course it doesn’t need to be crossed off the list but it is quite cold out and the thought of sitting back and relaxing sounds nice.”

Azriel nodded. “I might need to go back to my apartment for a change of clothes.”

“Of course,” Y/N replied. “We can go there now, if you want. You can collect some other stuff as well if you want to spend the night again.”

Azriel’s expression softened. “I’d like that.”

Y/N linked her arm with his once again. “Then let’s go.”

As Azriel led her to his own apartment, he was hyper aware of her arm linked through his. Of course she had done it before but Azriel hadn’t even realised at that point something he had been lacking a lot in recent years. Physical touch. Every time Y/N reached out to him, all he wanted to do was link her arm through his, take her hand or just simply brush his fingers against hers. 

As the pair closed in on Azriel’s apartment, he could feel his heart begin to race. What would Y/N think of his apartment? There was not anything embarrassing in there, in fact it was very bare. No personal decoration other than a painting Feyre had gifted him several years ago and a few things he had picked up over the centuries he had been alive. Nothing screamed home about his apartment. 

“Do you want me to wait out here?” Y/N asked.

“And let you freeze to death?” Azriel teased as he fished the unused key from his pocket. 

As they stepped inside, even Azriel was surprised at how bare everything looked. For two nights he had been used to Y/N’s apartment and her cosy decorations and furniture. He was too bland for his liking. Even the curtains were firmly shut. 

“I will only be a second,” Azriel said and entered his bedroom. 

His bedroom was not any better. The bed was still unmade from the last time he had used it, the only indicator of someone living here. He quickly fished for a small bag under his bed and shoved some clothes within it. He gave his bedroom one final look before exiting. When he entered the living area, he found it now filled with light. 

“There,” Y/N said. “Now it doesn’t feel so cold here.”

She stood by the curtains and the soft light shining from behind her made her look ethereal. Even her just standing within his bare apartment made it feel more like a home. 

“Ready to go?” Y/N asked, interrupting Azriel from his thoughts.

“Oh,” Azriel said. He raised the small bag he was holding. “Yes I am.”

“Then let's go,” Y/N said.

They stepped back out into the cold and Y/N immediately inked her arm with his and pulled him away in the opposite direction they had come in. “Let’s walk by the river, it's a nicer route.”

Azriel allowed her to guide him without argument. 

As they walked by the river the wind seemed to pick up and a drizzle of rain began to fall. It was cold but Azriel could handle it with ease, but Y/N was shivering and it was beginning to shake Azriel’s arm. Azriel extended his wing like he had the night they met to try and block out some of the cold but it seemed useless as the rain was coming in from the wrong direction.  

“I’m okay,” Y/N said. “But perhaps coming this way was a mistake.”

Azriel laughed quietly and pulled Y/N closer to his side. “Perhaps it was.”

As the two walked next to the river, a faint voice called; “Anything will help.”

Y/N stopped in her tracks and turned to the source of the voice. An older fae woman and a child were huddled in a small gap between two buildings, the blanket covering them was covered in holes and did nothing to protect them from the cold. Azriel tried to reach out to Y/N as she stepped away from him, still shivering. 

“Can I help you?” Y/N asked, crouching down next to the woman and child. 

The child was shivering in the older fae’s lap, lips blue. 

“Any spare change would help us or any food you have to offer,” the older fae woman said weakly. 

“Of course!” Y/N said and immediately offered the bag full of pastries. “Take them all, you need them more than me.”

“I couldn’t possibly take them all,” the older fae said. “This is simply too much.”

Y/N’s expression softened. “Of course you can. Please, I insist.”

The fae woman took the bag with hesitation as if she were afraid Y/N would take back her offer and walk away. The fae took the bag with shaking hands. Azriel looked from the fae to the child in her lap, looking close to death. His heart dropped.

“I don’t have much more to offer than the clothes on my back, so…” Y/N unwrapped the scarf from her neck and wrapped it around the fae woman’s. She then proceeded to take her gloves off and place them by the child. Finally she shrugged her thick warm coat off and draped it over the child. 

“I can’t allow you to give us your clothes!” the fae exclaimed.

Y/N gently grasped the fae’s shivering hands. “Of course you can, this blanket is not doing much in keeping your from the cold.”

“But–”

“Please, take it,” Y/N said and let go of the woman’s hands.

As she stood back up, Azriel could tell how much she was fighting the urge to shiver in front of the woman and child. The rain had began to come down heavier and The exposed alley did nothing to shield the two from it. 

Without thinking, Azriel fished his key out of his pocket. “Here,” he offered. “It is a key to an apartment around the corner. Stay there as long as you wish. I can drop by and bring some food for you in the morning.”

The older fae finally looked up to Azriel and her eyes widened, realising who he was. She looked down at her lap. “I couldn’t possibly take you up on that offer.”

“You can and you will,” Azriel said firmly. “This rain might be the beginning of a storm and I do not want the two of you out here, especially when your child is as sick as he is.”

“My grandchild,” the older fae corrected. “My daughter passed away recently.”

“More of a reason for you to get your grandson to safety,” Azriel said and placed the key on the ground next to the woman. “I am leaving my key here. If you decide not to go, that is your decision but I would highly suggest it. The rain will only get heavier from here.”

The older fae bowed her head. “Thank you both for your great kindness. Not many others have even offered us a passing glance.”

Y/N stepped forward. “I hope the two of you will stay safe.”

“We will, thanks to your kindness,” the older fae said.

Azriel and Y/N both nodded before stepping away from the woman. As they walked further down the street, Azriel turned and saw the woman walking down the street, the child wearing Y/N’s coat.

“L-l-let’s get back to m-my apartment,” Y/N said, shivering a lot now. 

Azriel’s eyes widened as he noticed the long dress she wore had soaked through and was clinging to her body. His hands immediately found themselves on her upper arms and rubbed them, trying to keep her warm. 

Y/N tilted her head to look up at him and smiled. “If you were trying to keep me warm, the first thing you would ask me to do is take off my clothes. These wet ones are only making me colder.”

Azriel blushed as she tried to avoid eye contact with her, but his eyes seemed to feel a magnetic pull toward hers. He couldn’t look away.

“Now is not the time for jokes,” Azriel said.

“But I love making you flustered, you look cute,” Y/N teased.

Azriel’s blush only deepened. 

The street was now empty and the only sound was the rain hitting the cobblestone street. Y/N shivered so much that Azriel pulled her body closer to his. “Do you trust me?” his voice was soft and quiet. He hadn’t intended it to come out that way.

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” Azriel asked again, his grip tightening on her waist.

“Of course I do,” Y/N replied, not a hint of teasing in her tone. 

Azriel trailed his hands slowly down her arms, before they came to her hands. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away but he forced himself to rid that thought from his mind. He lifted them so her arms were wrapped around his neck. Y/N’s breath hitched. Their position was quite intimate, Azriel would admit. But he couldn’t pull away. 

With one quick swoop, Azriel lifted Y/N into his arms and her grip tightened on him. “I will ask again, do you trust me”?

“Yes,” Y/N said, her voice slightly breathless. “Azriel, I trust you.”

A small smile toyed on Azriel’s lips. “Good.”

It was all he said before shooting into the air.

Taglist:

@justdreamstars @naturakaashi @thesunloveschips @hijabi-desi-bookworm @mischiefmanagers @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @ithan-holstroms-girl @meshellexplosionmurder @nightcourt-daydreaming @brujitafantomarico @qinfeii @pinksmellslikelove @schultzlindsey5 @mell-bell @we-were-beautiful @fightmedraco @glitterypirateduck @lostinpages13 @actuallyacerrr @poetryinshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @topaz125 @acourtofbatboydreams @luvmoo @daily-dose-of-sass @applerubyy @tonysttank @just-a-social-casualty-1 @scatteredstardustt @samaxraph99 @i-m-in-loki-s-army @katlyndawn51 @skyesayshi @iamjimintrash @reverieinthestars @witchymomfrien @oliviajdjarin @tele86 @sfhsgrad-blog @judig92 @natashachelsea @prettylittlewrites @amysangel @mybestfriendmademe @aria-chikage

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#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fluff

[mysterystarz]

kiss me maybe:

summary: finding a flier for the volleyball's kissing booth was surprising for two reasons. a) kuroo had created one of the worst fliers known to mankind and b) oikawa tooru, the school's resident pretty boy was capitalizing off the rumors surrounding him. still, you couldn't deny your attraction to the setter, and he couldn't hide that you were the only one he wanted to kiss

pairing: oikawa tooru x g!n reader

word count: 12.6k (please give this a chance)

genres + themes: college!au, sort of friends to lovers(?), fluff, angst, kuroo being an occasional menace, iwaizumi being the sexiest friend you can have, kiyoko being an icon, romanticized college experience, oikawa being an idiot but yours

warnings: cursing, a tad suggestive in some parts, absolutely not proofread

a/n: hi there i am back with a long fic. anyways this thing is my lovechild and probs the most fanfic thing ive written. its really just a fluff monster (lol) and i hope you give this a chance <3 also dedicated to @chimielie because her stuff gave me the inspo to write ily lia thank you for being so talented

It was said that Oikawa Tooru’s kisses were mythical. 

Some claimed that one press of lips from the kingly setter was like a hit of a drug, sudden in a way that sent you reeling. 

To some, his kisses tasted like the finest candy, hand served on an ornate dish. 

Most magically, it was claimed that a kiss from Oikawa Tooru could heal even the most broken of hearts. Just one thread through sun bronzed hair could make you forget about the most painful memories. 

And of course, like any celebrity would, he knew about each and every rumor.

Naturally, you reckoned you were bound to see the dreaded flier sooner or later. It sat there still, taped onto the tiny bulletin board outside of the Organic Chemistry I room. It was the worst godawful flier you’d ever seen in your life. In front of you was a myriad of colorful borders, and even more whimsical fonts atop of a cardstock page. It seemed to call out to you with its boldness, as if to say “kiss me” with its scrawling typography. 

Mystic Kissbooth, it read in an infuriatingly ornate font. Come and kiss your woes away (and kiss ours away too – a mutually beneficial fundraiser!) 

“I see you’ve seen our handiwork,” chuckled a voice. You didn’t have to turn around to recognize Kuroo, who simply leaned against the bulletin board in an attempt to catch your expression. 

Not that he would. You weren’t going to give him that luxury. 

“No wonder it’s such shit,” you laughed, gesturing to the list of names at the bottom, “I’m honestly ashamed to even know you.”

“Hey,” he frowned playfully, ruffling your hair as he began his signature large strides. Curse him and his stupidly long legs. “That was heavily inspired by your Canva templates…..you know….the bad ones.” 

You let out a long and dragged out sigh while you followed your best friend (unfortunately) to one of the secluded benches on campus. Beneath the hustle and bustle of students as they sprinted to class, it was almost peaceful to rest your legs for just a moment. 

Relaxing onto the bench, you placed your backpack at your side, creating a wedge between you and Kuroo, who’d taken the seat right next to you. He didn’t seem to mind, simply casting a grin in your direction. 

For starters, you weren’t sure how to feel about the Canva invasion. Yes, it was a design platform, and yes, you’d tried (and failed sometimes) to create infographics whenever Kuroo needed a helping hand. It was just a tad surprising to discover that Kuroo had drawn his inspiration from your least successful works. 

“What’s this whole thing about?” You decided on asking after a lengthy pause. Kuroo cast his gaze to meet your own, his grin almost glued into place. 

“Well, not that we’re in any trouble, but the volleyball club could use some funds. We’ve been trying to set up some pretty competitive matches and practice games, but we need the fuel to do it. Oikawa thought this was a great way to make use of all the attention we have.”

“No wonder. He’s probably the most popular one on the team….though Iwaizumi is honestly the one to be looking at.” 

“Rude,” Kuroo huffed, “There’s a lot of other people to be interested in, you know.”

“Hopefully you don’t mean yourself,” you chuckled, dodging a playful hit on the arm from Kuroo. “But in all seriousness, a kissing booth?” Kuroo paused for a moment, seemingly mulling over a proper response, when Iwaizumi entered your frame of vision. 

There were times you wondered why Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t consider a career in modeling. From where he stood, the sunlight almost seemed to caress his skin, tanned and sun bronzed from a summer spent playing volleyball on the beach. Upon seeing you and Kuroo on the bench, he extended a quick wave before jogging over, arms flexing as he got closer. 

“Stop ogling him,” Kuroo smirked, “You could stand to be a bit less obvious.” “Shut up,” you muttered just as Iwaizumi ended his jog to stand in front of you. 

“Nice to see you here,” he beamed, his eyes meeting your own, “I barely see you around these days. Did Kuroo scare you away from the club?” “No not at all,” you smiled, moving your backpack to make space for the handsome spiker. Some of the students on the nearby path stopped to turn at the three of you, and Iwaizumi, none-the-wiser, took a swig from his water bottle. 

He was never aware of the effect he had on people. That was exactly what contributed to his charm. 

“Y/N wanted to know a bit more about the booth,” Kuroo started. “I think you’d explain it better than I could.” 

Iwaizumi raised a brow, “It’s just a club fundraiser. I mean, it's the only decent idea that Oikawa’s had in a while.”

“So he really was involved, huh.” You said (more to yourself than anyone else). The two men looked at you confusedly, before Kuroo finally spoke. 

“You know, you always seem to get a bit fidgety whenever someone mentions Oikawa. And you always try to be away from him when you come to our practices…were the two of you involved or something? Because if you were, I am honestly offended you didn’t tell me.” 

You aggressively shook your head no, warranting a chuckle from Iwaizumi. “Well, if they were, I think it’s had an impact. You start to see him for who he really is.” 

The three of you laughed, choosing to enjoy the fresh breeze. 

However, even despite the simple beauty of this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the booth.

Oikawa stood at the front of the lecture hall, spinning his pen while meeting the eyes of his teammates. At his side was Kuroo’s flier, whimsically colorful in all the ways a magical kissing booth (like this one) was supposed to be. Iwaizumi sat in the front, close enough for Oikawa to catch the teasingly judgy stares of his best friend while he waited for everyone to settle down. 

Finding a free lecture hall had been no problem. All he’d had to do is smile nicely at a few eager students, verify with a few professors, and send a frantic “MEET NOW” to the club group chat. 

The real problem was convincing the rest of the team of this idea in the first place. 

“Hey guys,” he beamed, putting the flier down on the desk closest to him, “Thanks for showing up on such short notice. You guys are the best.” 

“We didn’t come for you,” Makki snickered. “We’re just here to see what crazy justification you have for this.” “Well,” he began, “We’ve been in the spotlight for quite some time now. A lot of us have been featured in the campus newspaper, we’ve made it onto our university’s podcast, and have you even seen the instagram fanpages for us? They’re absolutely insane. So, what better time to take advantage of this?” 

“And this has nothing to do at all with the rumors?” A voice asked. Oikawa turned to meet the eyes of Semi Eita, who sat on the left corner closest to the door. 

The team laughed as Oikawa shook his head in faux denial. “Absolutely not. Why would I ever do such a thing?” 

“Because you're smart!” Oikawa was almost surprised to hear the remark from Bokuto, who sat near Kuroo with his own flier. “And it’s a lot of fun.” 

The team murmured their respective agreements before the room fell silent again. Oikawa, ever the opportunist, slid into the silence with an explanation. 

“I was thinking we set it up as sort of a de-stress day after midterms. We could get the other clubs to join in their own mini fundraisers…like a carnival of sorts. We’ll set up the booth with colorful signs and posters, and we kiss based on the cash. We can take shifts to make sure the two of us aren’t running the whole show. All proceeds are for our matches and practice games. Sounds good?” “A question. Are you going to make people line up to kiss you?” Matsukawa asked casually. 

“You mean us Mattsun. And yeah, a line works just fine.” Oikawa stopped for a moment to admire the unanimous cooperation of his team. “I’ll talk to the other club leaders and see if we can come up with a date. If that’s all the questions you’ve got, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow!” 

With this, his team filed out the door. He caught Kuroo animatedly discussing a design to attract customers to their booth with Bokuto, mentioning that he had a friend who’d know just what to do about it. In the midst of his rant, he’d mentioned a name. 

Yours. A name he hadn’t realized he missed hearing. 

A faint smile crept onto his face at the thought.

Kuroo was a menace. From the minute he’d found you at the library, he’d been nagging you the entire day, practically begging for you to come to their practice. 

“Y/N please,” he whined, attempting his own version of a pout, “If you see us, you could help design the poster to attract customers.” “I don’t think you need help with that.” That much was true. Especially with Oikawa headlining the event. They were guaranteed strong profits. 

Somehow in the midst of all this pleading, you’d ended up right outside the gym. The sounds of volleyballs hitting the wooden floors resonated off the walls, the sound so clear that you could hear it from your spot near the door. 

“You planned this,” you glared, watching Kuroo’s smile twist into one of faux innocence. Bastard.  

“What can I say? I am the master of distraction.” He opened the door, swapping his shoes out at the front and walking into the gym to the greetings of his team. You followed closely behind him, carefully striding across the polished wood and shutting the door behind you. 

The gym had always been grand. Your university’s colors were plastered onto the bleachers, with a wide curtain separating the different sides of the gym. There was space – so much of it – and the team spread out to practice various skills. 

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself the childish awe of standing in a space so big. 

“I forgot how long it’s been since you’ve been here,” a voice greeted, “But it’s good to see you Y/N.” You knew that voice. You’d know that voice like the moon knew the stars. You’d know it anywhere. 

“Oikawa,” you said, turning to acknowledge the brown-haired setter. “Long time no see.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you drank him in. He seemed to be in high spirits this afternoon, hair artfully tousled in the way he always did, and lips so perfectly smooth that they seemed out of a Chapstick ad. 

“You don’t really come around anymore,” He said, taking to walking with you around the gym (much to your own surprise). “I was getting a bit worried actually.” 

“What do you mean?” You stared at a spot a bit beyond the setter, watching Bokuto’s cross court spike slam into the floor with dizzying speed. 

“Well….we talked a bunch. And you came here at the beginning of the year. You suddenly stopped though….so I wondered if something happened.” 

“You noticed?” You scoffed. “I’m surprised you paid attention.” 

“Why wouldn’t I pay attention?” Oikawa raised a brow in confusion before suddenly, the answer seemed to smack him in the face. “You’re petty about that?”

“You barely paid me any mind,” was all you said, meeting Oikawa’s warm gaze, “It was like we’d never met at all.”

You’d met Oikawa Tooru on the flight to university. You’d waved your family goodbye at the gate, hugging them tight to your chest and memorizing the feel of them against you. 

You walked steadily, pulling your suitcase along as you made your way to the security check in. 

“Everything goes in a bag! Belts, shoes, phones! Take off your shoes and step aside. Laptops can stay in your bags! Move along!” 

You hauled your suitcase into the bin, placed your phone and wallet beside it and sent it over to the TSA associate, taking a minute to place your jacket and shoes into another bin and sending that over too. 

The gray bins were plain, old and rackety and classic, comparable to a washed out 1930’s movie. You trodded through the metal detector, feeling the cold floor through your socks. 

When you finally made it through check in, you were met with a TSA associate over your bag, looking straight at you as if you’d committed some heinous crime. 

“Excuse me,” the TSA officer asked, gesturing to your bags, “Are these your bags?” 

“Yes,” you affirmed, almost nervously. “Is there an issue?” 

“You seem to have some liquid above the restricted amount. I’m going to have to take a look.” 

For a moment, you were startled. What did you even bring? You’d diligently packed your belongings and made sure everything was secure….surely there had to be some mistake. 

Your breath wavered the minute the officer pulled out your favorite body wash. 

In the midst of your packing, you’d forgotten you’d slipped it into your carry on. 

“Oh.” Your voice shook as you meant the TSA officer’s eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s my favorite one.” 

“I’m sorry.” For a moment, it almost seemed like the man had sympathy for you, “But I’m going to have to ask you to pour half of it out. If you refuse that, you’re going to have to give it away.” 

Every step towards the outside garbage felt like a punch to the chest. While you kept composed on the outside, pouring away half of your prized wash felt miserable. 

A dying rose. A dying star. Something dying slowly and surely inside. 

Now you’d have to get another one. Brand new packaging lost to your honest mistake. 

This sucked ass. 

You meandered through the security area again, more ghost than person and collected the rest of your belongings. While your voice wavered, you didn’t shed a tear, and simply walked along. 

Somehow, in the midst of all your wandering,  you ended up in the departure lounge. In front of you were an array of connected seats with their generic cushioning and the customary TV screens telling you what flight was taking off when. 

The glass paneled windows to your right showcased the hangar, and from your spot, you could see planes parked out in front. The sun set down in the distance, leaving a watercolor blend of pinks and oranges in its wake. 

You could almost call it picturesque. 

You leaned your suitcase against a wall for a moment, scanning the lounge for an available corner. Unfortunately, your plane was packed. 

The chatter of students was overwhelming, and without a choice, you settled into a seat at the far corner of the lounge next to a pretty-boy who you were certain wouldn't speak to you. 

They normally never did. Why should it be any different now? And honestly, you didn’t want to talk. 

“This plane is probably fully booked.” A voice (the perfect blend of warm and deep) said. You turned to meet the eyes of said pretty boy, a surprisingly lovely shade of brown. Light and bright and inviting. Almost like a mocha. Or a latte. 

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, slightly amused by the novelty of the situation. It wasn’t common for pretty boys to talk to you. Even less common for you to entertain any conversation, especially when you felt the way you did.  “When I waved ‘goodbye’ to my family, I wasn’t expecting this much of a crowd to tell them about.” 

“Yeah?” Oikawa smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards invitingly. “I was more surprised at the lack of seats.” 

“You’d think they’d anticipate a college student stampede.” 

Oikawa laughed, the amusement lighting up his whole face. It was a simple laugh — chiming and lovely in the way that all laughs were, but you were certain you’d do anything to hear that again. 

His presence had a way of putting you at ease. 

The two of you coincidentally had seats right next to each other on the flight. As the plane lifted off, you snapped a picture of the city lights, twinkling their tiny goodbyes as they faded from view.

The cabin’s lights were dimmed, yet even in the haziness, you could make out the features of the boy next to you. 

High cheekbones. A defined cupid’s bow. Lips that seemed even softer than the lather of that soap you loved so much. 

You’d mourn your soap later. Even if it was an object, your attachment to it simply showed a care for your belongings. 

What could be more human than that? 

Oikawa turned to you, gaze friendly as the plane began its mounting ascent. 

“You know, the TSA can be real dicks sometimes.” 

What the fuck. Who was he? A psychic?

“What did they do to you?”

“They made me pour out half my expensive hair gel. I insisted it fit the requirements but they refused to accommodate me. So mean.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the pout he wore. It seemed even someone as vivacious as Oikawa couldn’t charm himself out of aviation regulations. 

Somehow the whole thing made you feel a lot better. 

You and Oikawa (Tooru as he later insisted) shared many conversations throughout the flight. Some revolved around human existentialism (with him quoting the “we were infinite” from The Perks of Being a Wallflower). Some revolved around space. 

Some even revolved around clubs, with him sharing high school volleyball stories and pledging your university’s team to greatness. 

When fatigue finally claimed you, the comfort of his shoulder was unmatched by anything you’d ever felt. He’d extended an invite for you to come and see them practice anytime, and laid his own head atop of yours. 

Of course, when you showed up for said practice, so had a bunch of other fans. He’d barely spared you a glance, let alone spoke to you when you’d tried to seek him out. 

A grand gym and an even grander boy. 

You just avoided him after that.

“Im really sorry about that,” Oikawa said. While his expressions were genuine, you weren’t sure how much you were going to trust it. Certainly, in all the time you’d spent apart, he must have changed at least a bit. 

To think he was the exact same boy who you met on the plane would be foolish.

“Yeah, water under the bridge.” 

“No, not really.” Oikawa paused to study your expression. Beneath all of your nonchalance was something fragile. Admiration? Loathing? He doubted it. “How long did you plan on avoiding me?”

“As long as I needed to.” You answered matter-of-factly. “Then again, that was when I thought you’d forgotten about me.” 

“How could I ever do that?” Oikawa’s expression morphed into a worried one, eyebrows knitted together and mouth downturned as if to say damn that’s an accusation. 

“Well-“

“Look I meant to seek you out after that day. I saw you there, wanted to come over, but at that point you’d gone off to continue chatting with Kuroo and met Iwa. And classes exist.”

“Okay. Water under the bridge for real.” 

His eyes lit up. “You mean it?” 

You nodded in approval, only to be dragged away by Kuroo, who’d suddenly appeared behind you. 

“What the fuck?” You yelled, not caring much for your use of profanities. Some of the nearby team members snickered as you were pulled to the corner of the gym, in front of an array of poster boards. 

“What?” Kuroo asked, “You and Oikawa seem to be fine now, so I thought I could ask you some questions about stuff that really matters. Namely posters.” 

You were met with various shapes and sizes of poster boards. Some were Elmers Tri-Folds. Some were the cheap foam boards you sometimes saw while grocery shopping. 

“If you want a design for your freaking booth,” you began, looking at Kuroo, “Give me some time.”

Oikawa was in the podcast studio. The room was secluded, plastered with posters and heart decals of all shapes and colors. Right beside the door was a framed picture of the volleyball team, with their silly faces frozen in motion. 

Shimizu Kiyoko walked out from behind the desk, nonchalantly acknowledging Oikawa with a nod. “Oikawa, what can I do for you?” 

“Hey,” he winked, unaffected by her lack of reaction, “Have any idea where I can find your host. I’d like her to do me a favor.”

“Advertising.” Kiyoko said bluntly. “I don’t think your booth needs any more attention. Our socials have covered it already.” 

“We always love the extra coverage.” 

“Doesn’t your friend help with all the designs? I think they’d be the perfect candidate to help with all this.”

“Y/N?” He asked, almost dumbfounded by how obvious that answer was. 

“Yes,” Kiyoko smiled. “They’re very nice. I’ve seen you talk a few times, though it honestly seems like they don’t like you very much.” 

“Not true.” He huffed. 

“Well it makes sense. Especially if the rumors are true.” 

People saw Kiyoko’s beauty and shyness and mistook her for a soft and innocent podcast manager. 

Anyone who’d dealt with her enough knew she was actually a force to be reckoned with. 

“The rumors are whatever you make of them. I’m simply an opportunist.” 

Kiyoko chuckled and for a moment, Oikawa felt accomplished. “You don’t need to tell me this. I already know.” 

He leaned against the door, and stretched out his arms in front of him before resting them at his sides again. “Would you at least consider telling the main host to help us out?” 

Kiyoko shuffled the papers in her hands, before meeting his eyes. “I won’t give any guarantees, but something tells me that if you do set up a de-stress carnival, your club will be the central focus of our broadcast.” 

“Thank you!” He beamed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “I could kiss you for that.”

“No thank you,” Kiyoko declined, “I’m not interested in confirming the rumors.” 

As Oikawa left the studio, Kiyoko walked into the recording room, a tiny smile on her lips.

Your Canva page lay woefully blank before you.

You’d promised Kuroo a design if he gave you time and Kuroo, ever the considerate friend, actually stopped bothering you about the poster. He seemed to trust in Oikawa’s judgment, and it seemed that the rest of the volleyball club did too. 

As a token of thanks, you’d come to the library, your brain and Pinterest providing you at least a vague idea of what it was you wanted to do. However, when it came time to put pen to paper (or more fittingly, hand to mousepad), it seemed that your ideas had been wiped clean. 

Your disappointment felt like a leaky faucet. Despite the minuteness of the feeling, it seemed to pool the more you thought about the situation. While designing was never an obligation, you owed it to your friends. 

You sighed, placing your bag onto the hardwood library table and casting your eyes outside. A slowly setting sun was what greeted you, a medley of pinks and oranges appearing onto a slowly disappearing blue sky. 

How cliche. Considering one's disappointments next to a sunset. 

“Y/N?” A voice called, almost saccharine in the silence of your surroundings. 

And there he was. Draped in the setting sun like a painted figure, cloaked in a veil of sunlight that skimmed his skin like silk. Oikawa’s eyes were almost honey colored in that lighting, and beneath the darkened shelves, he was almost a mystical apparition. 

“Oikawa,” was all you said, cursing every possible force for him appearing now, looking like that, when you barely had anything to show for it. 

“Kuroo told me you’d offered to help us put together some signs for the de-stress carnival.” Oikawa walked over, stepping away from the sunlight and placing his bag down at your table, opting for a seat across from you. “Which, in case you were wondering, I got approval for. A lot of the other clubs are going to be there.” 

“That’s good.” You allowed yourself a glance at him. Your pettiness had all but dissipated, but you were still wary of looking at him for too long. He was like the sun, golden and lustrous and magnetic. You weren’t quite ready to be pulled into his orbit. 

“So,” Oikawa said, taking a glance at your computer screen, “Rough designing?” 

“Yeah. Inspiration has been hard to find and your club is counting on me.” 

“If it means anything to you, we wouldn’t have asked for you to do it if we didn’t believe in you.” You looked up to see Oikawa’s gaze set firmly on your own, as if tracking your expressions. Under his stare, you felt raw. Vulnerable. If you were a cake, and he was cutting you open. 

You weren’t sure what to say. 

A beat of silence permeated the space between you, and the two of you made no effort to stop it. It was somewhat comforting. Unsaid words of yours were understood by him.

“It feels like a lot of pressure,” you finally admitted, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I want it to be worth your while.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Oikawa was closer. His breath was soft, fanning over the side of your cheek like a secret. 

“I’m not sure.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper. 

Oikawa paused for a moment, as if contemplating something before decisively placing his hand on top of yours.

For a moment, you were startled by the warmth of his palm, grounding you in some way that didn’t quite make sense to you yet. Something about this was intimate in all the ways it shouldn’t be. Amidst a darkening sky and a slowly dimming library, you could almost consider this clandestine. 

You waited for the rustle of a book’s pages or the resounding footsteps of the librarian to break down the moment, but they never came.  

Oikawa looked at you, seemingly memorizing your features. He said nothing, but a slight smile appeared on his face the second he spotted a stray lock of hair by your ear. You could feel your face progressively heating with every moment spent in this proximity. 

Damn celebrity setters. Damn stupid stupid beautiful men who do this. Damn that Oikawa Tooru. 

Gently, as if touching something fragile, Oikawa smoothed down your hair, brushing the tip of your ear with his fingertips. He held your gaze fondly before suddenly, making an incredulous face. 

“What the-“ He said, looking at your hair again. “It’s back up again.” He looked at his hands in horror, as if their magic didn’t work. “Damn it, that’s not how that goes.” 

You couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of you at his antics, You swiftly flattened that pesky strand and looked back at him, feeling the amusement pool in your chest at his dismayed expression. 

“Sorry man,” you laughed, syllables coming out breathless, “Sometimes stuff doesn’t go to plan.” 

Oikawa seemed like he wanted to melt into the floor, and feeling the need for some fresh air, you dragged him out of the library. Upon leaving the double doors (and air conditioning), you were met by the lit sidewalk and found the wooden benches by the line of trees. 

You sat down, gesturing for him to join you. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before,” Oikawa mentioned off-handedly, “I mean I’m here a lot, but I’m not sure when this was put here.” 

“It’s been here…?” 

Oikawa sighed, tilting his gaze to the now dark sky. “You do have an eye for good things.” 

You raised a brow. “What does that even mean?” 

“The stuff you make is adorable. And Kuroo’s always said that everywhere he brings us are all places you found.” 

“Really?” You leaned your upper body onto the bench. “I didn’t expect credit from him.” 

“He cares about you,” Oikawa said. “He gave a lot of shit when he realized that we’d talked on our plane and then not again. But I deserved that.” 

“I was petty. But it’s not like I can actually walk up to you.” 

“What?” Oikawa seemed puzzled, as if this was something impossible for him to fathom. “Why not? I don’t think I’m that bad.” 

“Iwaizumi says otherwise.” 

“Mean. But seriously, why?” 

You’d forgotten how refreshing Oikawa was. Even though you were sitting on a bench, you felt practically weightless. 

“Rumors,” was all you said, gesturing to him. 

Understanding seemed to flash into his eyes, and slowly, like connecting pieces of a puzzle, it all fell into place. He paused for a moment before meeting your eyes with a grin. 

“You know they’re just rumors right?” He smirked, “I went to a party a while back to kick off club season. There was this one girl who really wasn’t leaving me alone, so I ended up leaving. Turns out she’d told her friends that she and I made out at the party and gave me a whole lot more credit than I was expecting. Not that I mind making out, but I’m picky.” 

“Picky how?” You asked, words leaving your mouth before you even had the chance to think them over. 

“Picky as in there’s really only one person I’ve even wanted to kiss since I got here but haven’t got the chance to. I’m hoping they come to the booth. Just so I’ll get to know what that’s like.” 

You felt a subtle twist of something in your chest, though you weren’t sure what to make of it. Of course he had his eye on somebody. It was bound to happen eventually. 

“Why are you making a booth to do mass kissing then?” A valid follow up question. A guy like him could successfully pull whenever he wanted to. 

“Because I’m an opportunist,” he sighed, “And I’m not even sure if I can make a move properly. I don’t function like I normally do when they’re around.” 

“Of course you can. Anybody would say yes to you, Tooru.” 

With this, something in him seemed to snap and he immediately pulled you closer, your faces just an inch apart. His hands were firm around your waist, and the sensation was nearly searing. You could feel everything, from his hands to his breath to even the way his eyes seemed to scan your face. 

The way he looked at you now was like worship. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered shakily. With him all around you you could barely breathe, let alone think. 

“Making a move.” His eyes were on your lips. His hand gently left your waist to skim your arm before placing a hand on your cheek. “May I?” 

Your nod was nearly imperceptible before he captured your lips in yours. 

Soft, was your first thought as you felt his lips brush yours ever so lightly. You leaned into him, relishing the vaguely sweet taste of strawberry Chapstick on his lips as you swiped your tongue over his lips. 

Oikawa Tooru was a mystic. His fingers tangled in your hair and his lips searched for yours as if he was a lost man and you were his savior. He traced the curve of your waist and kissed you passionately, nibbling your lips when you pulled at his shirt. 

You could kiss him forever. You moved to nip at the tip of his ear, and his shaky breath had you considering if you should bite down harder. He pulled you back in and you melted into the feel of his lips and hands and the way his touch seemed to awaken something inside you. 

The way he held you was reverent. 

When you finally split for air, Oikawa held you close, his smile never wavering. He rubbed a thumb across your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“That was magical,” you murmured into his shirt, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit happy to hear the laugh you liked so much. 

You reckoned you’d be able to put together a solid design after tonight.

Oikawa had a skip in his step the following morning. He’d aced every assessment, finished all his homework, and made major breakthroughs at practice. His sets to Bokuto were so flawless that Bokuto could hardly believe he’d made those shots. 

Everyone on the volleyball team was certain that something had happened, but Oikawa refused to let up. 

He didn’t kiss and tell after all. 

“What is up with you?” Iwaizumi asked good-naturedly, tipping back a water bottle. “You’ve been in a surprisingly good mood all morning.” 

“It’s been a good day,” Oikawa smiled, offering no other details while picking up a few stray balls on the court. The gym floor seemed exceptionally shiny today. He’d be sure to thank whoever waxed the floor for their services when he could. 

“Something definitely happened.” Kuroo chimed in, scrutinizing Oikawa like he was something under a microscope. “The question is what.” 

“Am I not allowed to have good days?” 

“No you are,” Kuroo smirked, “But a day this good only happens after a sudden surge in popularity which —last time I checked— didn’t happen, or……did you make some breakthrough?” 

“With my sets, yes.” 

“No,” Kuroo smiled knowingly. “I’m gonna curse them out for not telling me anything.” 

Oikawa hid his surprise with a flash of indifference, though internally he cursed the middle blocker. It seemed that he was just as good at reading people as he was at read blocking. 

Iwaizumi caught on almost immediately, casting his eyes to his longtime friend, who all of a sudden, was acting like a deer in headlights. He found it odd that the nature of your relationship with Oikawa had transformed seemingly overnight. 

It seemed that you never truly harbored any resentment against him. 

Still, he resolved to approach you about it as soon as he could. 

The minute that you walked through the gym’s double doors, the entire team thought that they’d summoned you with all the prying they were doing. You hauled something large through the door and placed it against the wall, proud of yourself for the herculean effort it took to bring it through. 

The minute he registered your presence, Oikawa’s face looked like a puff of cotton candy. His cheeks were rosy with all the teasing and the memories of last night, and when he saw what it was that you’d leaned against the wall, he thought he should run over and kiss you out of pride. 

“Good morning guys,” you beamed, a smile so radiant that Oikawa had suddenly lost all the focus he’d had all morning. 

“Morning Y/N,” Iwaizumi greeted, walking over to greet you with a hug and a slight gesture to the object that was now leaning against the wall. “Is this it?” 

You nodded excitedly. “I got the inspiration to put it together last night. I think it captures the magic of the booth.” 

Iwaizumi leaned to flip over the posterboard and decided that he’d never seen anything more fitting in his entire life. 

The sign was a pastel wonder, a pale blue at the bottom and moving to a light pink at the top. Across the poster were small and light volleyballs, somewhat transparent against the background as if the pattern was a part of it. The borders of the poster were filled with various lip prints (and even funnier, some hidden Chapsticks).

The font at the center was a far cry from the scrawling archaic font that Kuroo had used on their initial flyers. It was a simple block font, a shade of pink with a glow filter and a pattern that made it look like a light-up sign on the part that really mattered.

The Volleyball Club presents, the poster read, written in a smaller font. Right below that, the light up letters spelled out The Mystic Kissbooth. Help kiss us to greatness. 

The team crowded around the board, marveling at both its quality and its thoughtfulness. 

“Y/N….” Bokuto trailed off, his eyes nearly bursting with amazement, “This is crazy!” 

“Yeah,” Semi added, “This is ridiculously good. Kuroo, where the hell have you been keeping them.” 

Kuroo simply crossed his arms and smiled with pride. He’d always believed in you. 

Oikawa stood shell-shocked at your work, feeling all the days of preparation finally coming together. He looked at you and smiled a smile so genuine, you were glad you’d finally pulled through. 

You looked to the floor bashfully for a moment before meeting the team’s eyes with renewed confidence. “Thank you. I’m glad to help.” 

Iwaizumi stood at your side, smiling fondly at you before turning his gaze to Oikawa. “Hey. Oikawa. What is the deal with the de-stress carnival? When is it, where is it, and where are we setting up?” 

Oikawa, still elated, looked around the gym at the team. “If you want details, I think we should call another meeting.” 

”That is a great idea,” you chimed in. 

“Wanna join?” Oikawa asked (hopefully). 

”I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. I’ve got a date with Kiyoko.” 

The team went silent. “You have a what?!”

The evening hues only made Kiyoko more beautiful. She was dressed casually, wearing classic blue jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan that only accentuated her figure. When she saw you approaching her, a smile appeared on her face instantaneously. 

“Y/N!” She greeted, “It’s good to see you.” 

You jogged up to her and pulled her into a friendly hug. “It’s good to see you too!”

You and Kiyoko fell into step naturally, opting to have dinner at one of your favorite places outside of campus. It was a quick walk from where you’d chosen to meet up, and in such good weather, it was a crime not to spend more time together. 

“I have a lot to tell you about,” Kiyoko began, “Starting with Oikawa Tooru. He showed up in my room and asked for the host. He’s got to know it’s me right?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I know you use a modulator to stay under wraps so people take the podcast seriously, but he’s had a very good track record for being perceptive.” 

“That’s a pain” she sighed, “I hope he’s not going to spread it around.” 

“He won’t,” you assured her, “Oikawa can understand rumors better than anyone.” 

Kiyoko smiled relievedly, though she raised a brow at the mention of rumors. “Are those true?” 

You fought the heat that seemed to emerge onto your face the minute she mentioned that. You just hoped it would go unnoticed by her. 

Her blue eyes, unfortunately, were just as perceptive as they were pretty. 

She smirked, crossing her arms and stopping on the sidewalk path. “When did that happen?” 

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s keep walking.” You wish your voice had come out more strongly than a murmur. 

“When?” 

“Last night.” Damn Kiyoko for getting answers out of you. 

“And…?” She raised her brows expectantly. 

“Rumors are baseless but I confirm them. He is magical.” 

“I ought to say something about that,” she giggled, and you wanted to bury yourself into your hands to avoid her teasing. 

“Shush.” 

The two of you had a lovely dinner and opted to grab a quick drink from the speciality beverage store next door. Kiyoko grabbed a strawberry milkshake and you opted for a tropical fruit floater that they’d just created. Thanks to Kiyoko, both drinks were on the house. 

She nursed the straw between her lips and took a drag of her milkshake before meeting your eyes. “I have some information on the de-stress carnival.” 

You urged her to continue, and Kiyoko did. 

“Looks like Oikawa and the other members of clubs decided to officially name it the Cool Down Carnival. They’re just going to refer to it as Cool Down for ease. They’re planning to organize it the Saturday after midterms and they’ve been working on concessions like cotton candy, caramel apples, popcorn, and a whole boatload of stuff. Administration is also totally fine with this.” 

“Wow,” was all you could say as a response. You were honestly impressed with Oikawa. He put so much thought and care into a silly rumor that had transformed into one of the school’s biggest upcoming events. He was an alchemist of opportunities, taking a rumor of lead and transforming it to gold. 

“Yeah,” Kiyoko nodded, “I’ll get social media to cover it for me. So far, nobody doubts that I’m the manager of the ‘Cast, so it should be fairly reasonable for me to do.” 

“Out of curiosity, do you know anything about how they’re planning to do the shifts of the booth?” 

“All I know for certain is that Oikawa said he probably wasn’t gonna do a headlining shift…or a shift at all. A lot of the other members were perfectly fine with taking this on, but there has been some backlash.” 

He was planning on not headlining the booth?

Your heart was suddenly very warm and fuzzy in your chest. 

Kiyoko knowingly smiled at you before tipping at the front register and dragging you outside. The breeze was oddly pleasant, something a bit uncommon for this time of year. It was approaching colder weather, but it felt nearly spring-like. 

“The weather isn’t making sense,” you said, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with nighttime out. 

“It hasn’t been making sense,” Kiyoko smiled, “We’re anticipating a fresh fair.” 

Springs and falls blended together. You found a beautiful leaf on the sidewalk and pressed it to your palm, preserving the feel and look in your memory. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you’d finally tell Kiyoko as you parted ways, meaning each and every word.

When Oikawa had showed up at your doorstep in the morning, your sleep-addled brain could barely fathom the reason as to why he would do such a thing. 

That was, until he walked into your room carrying breakfast in a brown bag. 

“Good morning Y/N.” He said, voice still slightly raspy from a good night of sleep. (You weren’t going to forget how that sounded forever). 

You greeted him with a morning greeting of your own and sat on your bed, stretching your limbs and analyzing the boy who—at this present moment—seemed like the happiest guy on earth. 

“Feel free to help yourself,” Oikawa grinned, grabbing a bagel and a pack of cream cheese from the bag. “I have some updates for you.” 

“Does it have to do with the Cool Down?” You walked over to the bag and grabbed something you liked from the inside. 

“Wow. How did you know about the name?” 

“I have my sources,” you winked. 

Oikawa simply laughed. “I know it’s Kiyoko dumbass. She’s one of the sneakiest podcast hosts of all time.” 

“So you do know.” 

“Obviously.” Oikawa lounged on the chair in your corner. “Nobody else is ever working in that office. She should get some people to join her.” 

You nodded and shifted to sit next to him on the couch. His warmth was a surprisingly pleasant addition into the morning, and you found yourself leaning into him. He didn’t make any move to stop it, opting to pull you in and place his arm over you. 

“We have classes soon,” you said groggily, “But I don’t want to move.” 

“We don’t have to right now.” 

“Thanks Tooru.” 

“Of course, Y/N.” He smiled. “Though we do have an afternoon meeting on how to divide the shifts. I’m not sure what we’re going to be doing about me.” 

You suddenly felt a lot more awake. You shifted your weight onto your unsupported arm and looked up at Oikawa. “Are you planning to take a shift?” 

Oikawa shifted nervously in his seat. “I’m not sure. I may have to for the sake of demand. Everyone is expecting me to live up to the expectation. I think we would be less successful without my involvement.” 

You felt a twist of something. Not jealously, but not comfort either. Something between the two. You rose away from Oikawa, walking over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and met his eyes. 

“Do you really have to?” you asked, feeling partially unfair. There was nothing official between the two of you at the moment, but you’d thought after the kiss two nights ago…..you thought you had a chance. 

“I might,” he gulped, “But you know you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss.” 

You sighed exasperatedly. “I know that you came up with this as a business opportunity and because you thought we’d never…get anywhere, but a long shift is going to be a lot of people.” 

“I know,” he sighed, meeting your eyes with an expression in his own that looked a lot like sadness. “But the fundraiser might just have to come first for now— no that’s not what I—“ 

“Please leave,” you said, voice wavering a bit, “I don’t want to deal with the whole priorities thing right now. We can say we kissed once for fun. Headline it if you must. Later Oikawa.” 

You turned away from him and walked towards your closet to find appropriate clothes for the day. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. Things would become too complicated for you to handle. 

“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” Oikawa said from behind you, “That is genuinely not what I meant.” 

You turned to face him again, not even able to meet his eyes. “There’s got to be some semblance of truth in what you said earlier. You love your team Oikawa. They are important. I don’t expect you to throw away opportunities for me. We’re not even dating.” You laughed dryly. “I’d like a bit of space. We can talk a bit later.” 

Oikawa seemed like he had a lot more to say, but he wordlessly slipped out of the door, leaving your room noticeably empty. 

Once he’d left for certain, you collapsed onto the floor and let loose the dam of tears you’d held in for so long.

When Iwaizumi found you in the library, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes were reddened ever so slightly, covered over by a splash of cold water to the face (most likely), and your usual cheerfulness when you greeted him was a lot less lively. 

He took the seat beside you, surprised by your lack of response. 

”Hajime,” you said softly, turning over to smile sadly at him, “Good to see you here.” 

Correction: something was horrifically wrong. 

“What happened?” He asked softly, wondering what was enough to dampen your normally resilient spirit.  

“Fucking Oikawa,” you laughed sarcastically, “Look at me saying I’d never get caught up in his web, and then doing exactly that.” 

Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow. That day on the bench, he’d known enough to discern that you and Oikawa had some sort of history. That much continued to be made obvious by Oikawa’s constant urge to see you and include you in everything that he and Kuroo didn’t think was important enough to invite you to. 

However, he wasn’t sure when you and Oikawa became more than a past set of acquaintances….and that stung a little. He understood your reasoning though. Especially if it was as complicated as you seemed to feel at the moment. 

“Were you guys dating?”

“No.” You turned to face him in full, and he was struck by the magnitude of just how magnetic you were. Iwaizumi was guilty of being stuck in your orbit. “Just a kiss. Because he sweet talked me into thinking he wanted something.”

“Knowing him, he probably did.” Iwaizumi said, “Oikawa has a tendency to be obsessive to get what he wants, but also be blinded by obligations. This was definitely about him headlining the booth, right?” 

You nodded, feeling a sudden tightness in your throat at the thought. You weren’t ready to confront the morning’s events quite yet. 

“That dumbass,” Iwaizumi groaned, “If he’d told us that he liked you and had actually managed to make a move we would’ve gladly taken his shift! Who gives a fuck about what the college body wants? Half of them thirst over everyone!” You laughed a bit at the truth of that statement. “Yeah, and Kiyoko told me she was also planning on making a little appearance.” 

At this Iwaizumi raised his brow. “Oh that’s about to be carnage.” 

“Absolutely,” you giggled, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the lucky person.” Iwaizumi laughed, a sound that was low and sweet and comforting. “I think I’ll leave it to some of the other boys. They deserve a chance after all.” 

The two of you grinned at the mental imagery of the team fighting for a chance to interact with your beautiful friend, and suddenly, Oikawa’s shittiness seemed like something far less relevant. 

Still, even with the humor of the situation came the very uncomfortable realization that you and Oikawa–-whatever you were–-were done if you didn’t come to some consensus. 

You shoved your hands into your face, wondering how the hell you’d managed to go from avoidant and unattached to too attached. Maybe the rumors had some merit. A kiss from Oikawa was all that it took to get so jumbled. 

Iwaizumi’s warm palm on your back was what brought you back to your senses. He rubbed his slow circles and sat there patiently until you emerged from your cover of shame. 

“What am I going to do?” you asked, voice raw and vulnerable and everything you’d rather it not have been. 

“Whatever you want to do.” Iwaizumi’s gaze was genuine, soft eyes studying you. “You’re entitled to your own decisions. Kuroo and I would never ditch you for Shitty you know.” 

“It’s for the team,” you whispered, feeling tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your vision was hazy, and you blinked slowly to clear the water from your eyes. “So then why do I feel like this?” 

“Because you care about him, Y/N.” Iwaizumi squeezed your shoulder affectionately, “You and him clearly bonded on some intergalactic level, so having that be suddenly shattered in favor of something seemingly less important is going to feel like shit. In fact, he is the real piece of crap here.” “The team matters.” “The team is all about relationships.” Iwaizumi said firmly. “I have a hunch there’s someone in this tournament that he needs to beat. That’s why he’s been obsessively orchestrating the perfect way to raise money to have a practice match beforehand. Still, I won’t deny it. Oikawa is an idiot for doing this to you. You have all the rights to move on with your life.” 

“I think I’m gonna take my space from him for a few days,” you eventually responded. “I think I’ll also not visit the booth. I’ll give Kuroo the sign in advance so he can help with setting up?” 

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly. “If that’s what you need to do, I’ll be your number one supporter. I’d still love it if you could stop by though. We love having you around.” 

You nodded at him. “I’ll be there for you and Kuroo. Always. And you guys can hang out with me at the Cool Down when you’re off shift.” 

“Of course,” Iwaizumi smiled, “For you? Anything.”

“How do you say, ‘I’m angry’ in French?” The ping of the recording microphone tapped on as Oikawa paced quickly around his room. 

“Je suis fâché.” 

“How do you say, ‘I like to go out with my friends’ in French?” “J’aime sortir avec mes amis.” 

“How do you say, ‘I went to my friend’s house’ in French?” 

“Je ne veux pas continuer.” 

“Oui Monsieur. À Bientôt!” His phone’s recording feature switched off, leaving him in a silent room once again. 

He was regretful, so much so that he paced around in his room in the hopes that it would give him some sort of clarity. As much as he wanted to approach you, he knew you weren’t ready to talk to him right now. 

“Shittykawa,” he heard from his door, opening with a subtlety and closing with a bang. Classic Iwa move. 

He turned to face his best friend, who at this moment, seemed to be quite irritated with him. He could feel the lecture as certain as one could feel a thunderstorm in the air. 

Iwaizumi stood, arms crossed in Oikawa’s room, leaning against the wall and pinning him with a look so strong it might as well have been a thumbtack. Oikawa felt rooted in place, and all the words he initially planned on saying left his mouth. 

“So Ushijima Wakatoshi happens to be at a school just a bit over,” Iwa started, “I did my research. Why not play a practice match with them to start to see their setting style? Break down their setter, practice receiving from a left-handed person, and maybe we can beat him, right?” 

Oikawa sighed, feeling all the fight leave his body. He made his way over to his pale blue rug and sat down. “I know. It’s ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is what you did to Y/N.” Iwaizumi glared at him. “If you’d said something about liking them and actually successfully getting them to like you, then we would’ve been perfectly capable of handling the shifts. Hell, even Kiyoko is coming. That alone will give people incentive to come and kiss us.” 

“I made a mistake,” Oikawa cringed. He didn’t even want to think about the morning. What was intended to be a romantic gesture ended up being a horrible memory. His attempts to distract himself were futile, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Iwaizumi had found you. “But they probably don’t want to talk to me.” 

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa sadly. “They’re planning on skipping the booth. They’ve already decided to give their poster to Kuroo so he can help us with set-up. So don’t plan on seeing them.” 

He grimaced. “Not coming? Really?” 

Iwaizumi nodded. “I was pretty unhappy about it, but we’ve got to give them space to process everything.” The minute you’d smiled at him in the airport, talking about “college stampedes,” Oikawa knew he wanted nothing more but to know you better. He’d thanked every lucky star for the seats you had next to each other and relished every moment spent with you. 

He wondered why you avoided him for the next months, always daydreaming about what he’d say to you when you finally reappeared at practices. He’d searched for you in your classes, but he always missed you. 

When you walked into the gym on that fateful day, he thought he had a genuine chance. You were perfect. Your thoughts were exquisite, your smile radiant, and everything about you felt right. When he kissed you, he could’ve screamed to the heavens that his heart was yours. 

Perhaps that was why his heart seemed to tear a bit at Iwaizumi’s declaration. You wanted to move on from this. 

“Oikawa…you can still fix this you know?” Iwaizumi pulled him up from the rug, noting the reignited spark in his eyes. “You should probably get the fair set up, find Y/N, and explain yourself. I’m certain they’ll understand.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” he said solemnly, “And if they still decide they want nothing to do with me, at least I did my part.”

You found him at Kuroo’s place at night when you’d stepped through his door uninvited (like you did at times). In your hands was your laptop, a few pencils, and the sign you’d made for the booth. The last thing you’d expected was to see the person you’d been trying so desperately to avoid. 

Oikawa, for a moment, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked at the door, brown eyes concerned and scanning you as if you’d just walked in through the wall. 

Nobody said anything. You stood still, too shell-shocked to process the fact that a night before the Cool Down, Oikawa was spending time with Kuroo. In fact, you could barely believe Kuroo had ever allowed Oikawa into his place in the first place, especially when he knew that you were planning on popping in at some point. 

Kuroo’s eyes followed your gaze, finding it landing right on the floor next to Oikawa (as opposed to straight at him). 

“Well,” Kuroo began softly, “I didn’t warn either of you.” 

“You could have,” you said, looking back at Kuroo, “I would’ve liked to know before I got here.” “But then you would have never showed up.” Oikawa’s voice was clear, slicing through the silence of the room with a blade of decisiveness that you hadn’t heard from him. He looked you over, seemingly analyzing your health since the day he’d fucked up. 

“I wasn’t planning on running into you,” you admitted, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “In fact, I was literally just coming to drop off the sign for your booth, talk to my best friend, and then go to bed.” 

“Please let me explain myself.” Everything about Oikawa seemed pleading. His face harbored an expression of guilt so boundless that you weren’t sure how to react. 

You wordlessly sat down in the corner chair closest to Kuroo’s door, setting your stuff down on the surface closest to it. 

“I’m sure Iwaizumi must have told you what it was that we were raising money for.” 

You nodded.

“I never had the chance to tell you more about what I struggled with in high school," Oikawa said quietly. “I was surrounded by talented players. Some of them are so talented that I thought I never even stood a chance.  I realized at the end of my matches that I deserved to be on the court just as much as anyone else.” 

“You’re a damn good setter Oikawa,” Kuroo interjected, “And even Semi admires your sets. He’s from the same school as Ushijima too.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa laughed softly, but even the sound was sad. He turned to meet your eyes. “I was out of line trying to say the volleyball club mattered more to me than what we were getting to be. I was worried they’d be weird at me for flaking, but they’re my team. Iwa told me they’d always have my back. Happy setter happy tosses right?” 

You took a moment to process everything that he was saying, ultimately coming to one conclusion. He really did feel bad. 

“Why are you so obsessed with having a chance to beat someone you had a rivalry with in highschool?” 

Oikawa paused, contemplating your question. His brow was furrowed, and his hands clutched anxiously around nothing, seemingly finding the best words to phrase—whatever it was—that he was feeling. 

“It was to give myself the confidence to know I can still beat tough opponents,” he said quietly. “But it was never worth losing you.” 

You gently moved onto the floor, kneeling your way over to where Oikawa sat. When your fingertips skimmed his cheek, cool from the fall time air, he seemed fragile. 

You gently curved your fingers to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you mean it?” 

“Every last word.” Oikawa whispers, and maybe against your better instincts, you pull him into an embrace.

As far as Oikawa was concerned, you weren’t coming to the booth today. 

Cool Down’s set up began bright and early, and despite last night’s emotional clarity, Kuroo was still the one who showed up with the sign. 

The booth was placed in a central location, but deep enough into the carnival so that after a sweet kiss, everyone could go and support the other clubs. He hadn’t been able to spot Kiyoko quite yet, but he was certain they were bound to cross paths eventually. 

He walked across the grassy area where the carnival was being set up, watching the glorious “Cool Down” sign being placed at the front of the admit area. Many sports teams and board members of academic clubs were helping organize their own booths. 

“Hey Oikawa! I can put up the banner!” Bokuto shouted from across the field, jogging up to their area with a rolled up “Mystic Kissbooth” backdrop. 

“Be careful!” He yelled back, “We can’t have one of our best spikers getting hurt. I need those cross court and straight shots in perfect condition!” 

Bokuto grinned so widely that Oikawa couldn’t help but grin back. “You can count on me!” 

He took a moment to slouch against the now filled bouncy castle by their stand, clutching his clipboard to his chest. He could practically sense the excitement seeping into the space as the nearby club members set up their stands. 

He’d had the opportunity to survey the space beforehand, and was quite pleased with the nearby stations. 

The art club created a paint gun bullseye game to win handmade trinkets and jewelry. The president stood proudly at the set up side, excitedly loading up paint into the guns. He could already predict the boyfriends who’d attempt to win there.

To the other side of them was the statistics club’s probability stand. They’d set up numerous games: cards, a wheel, and even ring toss for the chance to win huge prizes. At the present moment, Kuroo was inquiring about the legitimacy of the airpods in one of the member’s hands (and yes—they were legit). 

“This is pretty amazing, huh?” 

Oikawa snapped out of his reverie, only to see Mattsun sporting his classic smirk. He looked around for Makki, but didn’t find him. 

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m honestly surprised our little flier accomplished this much.” 

“I’m not,” Mattsun chuckled, “You’ve been like this since high school Oikawa. Everyone here is really grateful for the rumors. Speaking of which…think the culprit is going to show up today?” 

Oikawa snorted, momentarily horrified at the sound 

that escaped him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not planning on being a headliner. Iwa’s got that covered.” 

Makki walked into view just a few moments later, looking thoroughly confused. “Where’s the rest of the team?” 

Kuroo walked over at the exact moment, clapping Makki on the back. “We decided to give them a little break, considering they’re going to be doing all the kissing later.” 

The group gathered together, and Mattsun pointed to the castle. “Who’s running this thing?” 

“Oh it’s just a free fun thing the school is putting up.” Oikawa smacked it for good measure. 

“How did midterms even go for you guys?” Kuroo laughed, “I pulled what I wanted in all my classes. Somehow. Orgo was a fucking miracle though. I genuinely thought I failed.”

“I was mostly fine,” Mattsun chuckled, “Though we won’t talk about history. Freaking liberal arts.” 

Oikawa’s midterms had gone more or less to plan, but the added emotional stress had made it much more difficult to keep cool. 

Standing there in that grassy field, he felt more at peace than he did the rest of the week. 

Maybe today would be okay after all.

You and Iwaizumi were in your room trying to devise a plan on how to attend the carnival. The cool wood of your desk hit your wrist as you spread out the makeshift blueprint of the event that Kiyoko had so graciously given you. 

Iwaizumi paced along the floor, inspecting outfits that you picked out while you devised a mental list of everywhere you wanted to go to maximize your enjoyment. Economic principles were literally designed off of utility, and you wanted to make sure all your contributions would have the best outcome for the clubs and yourself. 

Midterms had been stressful, and while last night’s talk had fixed most of what had contributed to that stress, you still wondered about Oikawa.  

Iwaizumi was the event’s new headliner, so what did that mean for Oikawa? 

You weren’t sure. 

The Saturday morning filled your room with sunshine that was comforting. From your window you were greeted with the multicolored leaves of campus, some floating down leisurely to hit the grass. 

Iwaizumi, it seemed, had finally picked your outfit. 

“Here,” he gestured, pointing to one of your favorites. “You rock this one.” 

“Why thank you,” you smiled, tossing him the blueprint. “I’ve finally figured out the order I’m going to tour the Cool Down.”

Iwaizumi caught the paper in one arm, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he did. You nodded appreciatively. He was going to generate a shit ton of money. 

He put a pen between his lips ever so slightly as he read the marks on the page. “Cotton candy. Art booth. Bouncy castle. Stats games. Chemistry lab. Apple dunk to win candy apples. Physics coaster.” He handed the page back. “That’s a pretty solid list. I think you’re missing something though.”

You pulled the pen out of Iwa’s mouth (surprised at your boldness) and smiled gently at him. “I’ll be sure to pop in at some point or be nearby to support you.” 

Iwaizumi nodded, “Of course. I just need to beat you at any and all games we visit after my shift.” 

You snickered. “Not a chance.” 

Iwaizumi simply smirked in response.

“Hey, I need two tickets!” A student hollered to her assistant, who at the present moment, was working on acquiring more admit tickets from the roll they’d customized for the event. “We have quite the line here.” 

“I’m working on it!” The assistant hollered back, jogging over with the entire row. 

The line for the Cool Down was large, and you were thankful you’d had the foresight to arrive early enough to avoid a majority of the crowd. Being friends with Iwa had its perks too–the minute that the admitting team had spotted him, they’d immediately ushered you to the front so you were in a position to visit him later. 

Soon enough, you were at the front of the line. 

“Well hello there friend of Iwaizumi,” the girl at the front smiled, “How many tickets do you need?” “Just one,” you said, surprised at the lack of prompt to pay the entrance fee. “What about the entrance fee?” 

“Oh, Iwaizumi took care of that already,” the assistant grinned, handing you a beautifully designed cardstock ticket and tying a wristband around your wrist. “So you can walk straight in.” 

You smiled graciously at the duo. “Wow. I’ll go find him and pay him back. Thank you guys.”

Stepping around the ticket distribution center, you walked straight through the decorated entrance area and walked in. 

For a moment, you were awestruck. The usually empty grass fields were filled to the brim with activity. All around you were the booths of various clubs, all with lines to try them out. You could smell the sweet and tart scent of caramel apples in the distance, and saw a couple trying out the physics club’s make-shift coaster with a cotton candy in their hands. 

The late afternoon was brisk and fresh, and you felt the possibilities of the evening unfurl around you. As the sky darkened its hues, the fair would begin to light up from the fixtures that trimmed everyone’s areas. Everything, from the food areas, to even the Mystic Kissbooth would create a movie-like scene. 

You decided right there and then that the Cool Down was the best fair you’d ever attended. You’d never seen anything as well thought out as what you saw today. 

You made your way to the popcorn area, finding new booths that you hadn’t seen on the blueprint. In front of you was a simple dart-throw, with the guarantee of winning a special edition Cool Down shirt if you hit within a certain range. 

This was intriguing. 

“Hi there,” you said quietly, walking up to the booth. “Can I give this a whirl?” The booth’s president looked up at you shocked for a moment before nodding. 

“Of course!” He said excitedly, elbowing his shift mate. “Y/L/N Y/N, right? We are huge fans of your work. Kuroo has told us so so much about you!” 

“My work?” You asked curiously as they pressed a dart into your palm. “Like my fliers?” “Hell yeah,” the president grinned. “Pay if you win okay? I honestly want you to get our design out of it. We were inspired a bit by your Mystic Kissbooth sign.” 

In the spirit of good fun, you aimed the dart as best as you could, so surprised when you hit a spot very close to the bulls-eye. 

“Hey!” you shouted excitedly, “I actually got in range!” The president smiled excitedly. “Amazing! What’s your shirt size?” You told him your size, tucking a good amount of money into the jar. As soon as the soft shirt fabric hit your hands, you were immediately overcome with a sense of pride. The design was beautiful and simple, capturing the essence in the fair in just an image.

“You’re the design club?” You grinned, “This is amazing!” “Ah thank you,” the president said bashfully, “It’s an honor to get a compliment from you. You’re more than welcome to join us. Canva art is still art we love.” 

“I’ll be sure to consider it!” You waved goodbye to the design booth as you made your way deeper into the fair, a t-shirt in hand. 

“Hey there! Want a chance to win a cool plushie? Come right over!” You turned your head to be met with the sewing club with something that looked a lot like “Bop-It” set up with sheets of papers next to them. Out of sheer curiosity you made your way to the booth, finding a larger crowd than you anticipated. “Okay,” one of the members began, “Here is how this works. You and your competitor will receive a pre-programmed Bop-It machine. Follow the color scheme as closely as you can and note the last color in each sequence on your sheet. If you don’t mess up before your partner, you win ANY handmade plush of your choice!” In front of you, you spotted a couple tucking money into the jar and competing against one another. The round was quick, ending when someone clicked the wrong color. The handmade plushie of the winner was adorable. 

Somehow, all your observations had led you to the front of the line. 

“Hello,” a student smiled, “Do you have a competitor with you?” You were about to share a response when you heard a voice behind you. “Yeah, they do. I’d like to play please.” You were pleasantly surprised to find Kiyoko grinning as she tucked a hefty amount into the jar. The student at the front seemed enamored, and so did the entire line. 

“Shimizu Kiyoko is here…” they all whispered. 

“Hey Kiyoko,” you smiled, placing your own money in the jar. “Planning to beat me?” 

“Of course.” She grinned mischievously, “I ran a volleyball team. I am competitive enough to beat you.” 

The game began as soon as the students got a grip of themselves. You frantically hit the colors and noted them down, only to tie with Kiyoko. You’d both walked away with adorable plushies, though Kiyoko had forcibly had to ensure that they didn’t hand her an extra. 

“I’m glad to run into you,” you smiled, walking with her further into the grass. “I had no idea what time you were planning to get here.” 

“I’m glad I found you.” Her smile was infectious, and soon enough, you stood in front of a candy apple stand. 

“Are you planning to visit the booth?” You asked her, watching her pay for her apple. 

“Yeah,” she smiled, “Oikawa begged me to cover, so I was feeling nice. Though he’s been sulking lately.” You raised a brow. When you saw him last night, you could feel his fatigue. You felt the stress melt out of him when you pulled him in for a hug, but you hadn’t realized the extent of his distress. 

“He hasn’t kissed today at all,” she smiled knowingly, “I think he’s saving an appearance for a special someone.” “He’s….not headlining?” You were shocked. After everything, it seemed that he really meant what he said. 

“Nope,” Kiyoko wiped some caramel from her lips. “And the booth’s sales have been spectacular.” 

Standing there in the field, you were hit with the intense urge to see him. “Go,” Kiyoko smiled, “They’ve been waiting for you to show up.” “We’ll catch up.” You smiled as you took off in a jog towards the booth. The wind swept your cheeks as you ran, and you could see the evening sun dip into different colors. Beautiful, you thought, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins. 

He really had meant everything. You needed to see him. 

When you arrived at the booth, you were shocked at the line. So many students lined up, money in hand as they waited for their chance to kiss a volleyball player. You were shocked to see the crowd, watching someone hand Semi a particularly large bill before leaning in for a kiss. 

You surveyed the booth for Oikawa, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You couldn’t stop the thrum of your heart in your chest from overpowering your senses. Where was he? What if you were too late? At that particular moment, Oikawa walked out from behind the stand, putting some Chapstick onto his lips. And then, he saw you. 

You stood in line, a large bill in hand and an expression that seemed almost desperate. Oikawa has never seen anyone look more perfect than you did right now. You held a handmade plushie and a shirt, lips flushed from biting them. 

You met his eyes, feeling your heart shock at the sensation. There he was. 

Before you even had a chance to think about what you were doing, you ran out of line to him, shoving the bill into his hands. 

“Tooru,” you said breathlessly, looking at him with an expression he’d never seen before. “Kiyoko told me you weren’t headlining. I was afraid I wasn’t going to find you. I’m sorry for not trusting you.” Oikawa could hardly hide his shock as the words tumbled from your lips. He studied your cheeks, and smoothed out your wind mused hair with a soft smile. “Hey, it’s alright.” You exhaled, looking at him like he strung the stars. “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.” Oikawa simply grinned before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. 

This was different from the last time you kissed. He cupped your face softly and wrapped his other arm around your waist, tracing a small heart into your back. You could feel the curve of his lips as he kissed you softly, pulling you deeper when you smiled back into it. Everything about this was soft, almost loving. It felt like a truce. It felt like a confession. 

It felt better than both of those things. When you finally split for air, his smile was nearly blinding. He looked at you like you were a poet and he was your poetry, a product of your purest affections. 

“Go out with me sometime?” He looked nervous, standing there like he hadn’t just kissed you like you were the most special person in the universe. 

“Of course,” you grinned, pulling him down for another kiss.

©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited

if you got this far, thank you for reading <3!!

#nova scribbles <3 #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #oikawa tooru fluff #oikawa tooru angst #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa tooru x y/n #oikawa headcanons #oikawa fic #hq oikawa #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x f!reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq x you #hq imagines #haikyuu #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsurou

[chosetherose]

Updated as of 6/30

The Eras Tour *Surprise Songs*

Taylor said her goal is to not repeat each show’s surprise songs so I thought it would be fun to track them as the tour goes on! Black strikethrough is included in the main set list. Purple strikethrough are included in the main set list but have been switched up at some show/s. Blue songs Taylor played but might be repeated due to messing up.

Taylor Swift

Tim McGraw (3/17) • Picture to Burn • Teardrops on My Guitar (5/5) • A Place in This World (4/22) • Cold as You (4/23) • The Outside • Tied Together with a Smile • Stay Beautiful• Should’ve Said No (5/19) • Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) • Our Song (3/24) • I’m Only Me When I’m with You (6/30) • Invisible (5/20) • A Perfectly Good Heart

Fearless

Fearless • Fifteen (5/6) • Love Story • Hey Stephen (5/14) • White Horse (3/25) • You Belong With Me • Breathe• Tell Me Why• You’re Not Sorry (4/21) • The Way I Loved You • Forever & Always (5/13) • The Best Day (5/14) • Change • Jump Then Fall (4/2) • Untouchable • Come In With The Rain • Superstar • The Other Side Of The Door (4/28) • You All Over Me (6/3) • Mr. Perfectly Fine (6/16) • We Were Happy • That’s When • Don’t You • Bye Bye Baby • Today was a fairytale (4/22)

Speak Now

Mine (5/7) • Sparks Fly (5/5) • Back To December • Speak Now (4/13, Taylor restarted part of the song but did not confirm it could be played again) • Dear John (6/24) • Mean (4/15) • The Story Of Us (6/17) • Never Grow Up • Enchanted • Better Than Revenge • Innocent• Haunted (6/9) • Last Kiss • Long Live • Ours (3/31) • If This Was A Movie (6/23) • Superman

Red

State Of Grace (3/18) • Red (5/21) • Treacherous (4/13) • I Knew You Were Trouble • All Too Well • 22 • I Almost Do (6/9) • We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together • Stay Stay Stay • The Last Time (6/16) • Holy Ground (5/27) • Sad Beautiful Tragic (3/31) • The Lucky One (4/2) • Everything Has Changed • Starlight • Begin Again (4/23) • The Moment I Knew (6/4) • Come Back… Be Here (5/12) • Girl At Home • Ronan • Better Man (5/19) • Nothing New • Babe • Message In A Bottle • I Bet You Think About Me (4/30) • Forever Winter • Run • The Very First Night • All Too Well – 10 Minute Version

1989

Welcome To New York (5/28) • Blank Space • Style • Out Of The Woods (5/6, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • All You Had To Do Was Stay • Shake It Off • I Wish You Would (6/2) • Bad Blood • Wildest Dreams • How You Get The Girl (4/30) • This Love (5/13) • I Know Places • Clean (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again, 5/28) • Wonderland (4/21) • You Are In Love • New Romantics

Reputation

…Ready For It? • End Game • I Did Something Bad • Don’t Blame Me • Delicate • Look What You Made Me Do • So It Goes… • Gorgeous (4/29) • Getaway Car (5/26) • King Of My Heart • Dancing With Our Hands Tied • Dress • This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things • Call It What You Want • New Year’s Day

Lover

I Forgot That You Existed • Cruel Summer • Lover • The Man • The Archer • I Think He Knows (5/21) • Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince • Paper Rings (6/23) • Cornelia Street • Death By A Thousand Cuts (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • London Boy • Soon You’ll Get Better • False God (5/27) • You Need To Calm Down • Afterglow • Me! • It’s Nice To Have A Friend • Daylight (6/24) • All of the Girls You’ve Loved Before

Folklore

The 1 (replaced IS multiple shows) • Cardigan • The Last Great American Dynasty • Exile with Bon Iver • My Tears Ricochet • Mirrorball (3/17) • Seven (spoken, 6/17) • August • This Is Me Trying (3/18) • Illicit Affairs • Invisible String (replaced by T1 multiple shows) • Mad Woman (4/15) • Epiphany • Betty • Peace • Hoax • The Lakes (6/2)

Evermore

Willow • Champagne Problems • Gold Rush (5/12) • Tis The Damn Season • Tolerate It • No Body, No Crime • Happiness • Dorothea • Coney Island (4/28) • Ivy • Cowboy Like Me (3/25) • Long Story Short • Marjorie • Closure • Evermore (6/30) • Right Where You Left Me •It’s Time To Go

Midnights

On 4/14 Taylor changed the rule: ALL SONGS ON MIDNIGHTS MAY BE REPEATED. I’m adding the dates to the midnights surprise songs but they will remain in black text since they can be repeated.

Lavender Haze • Maroon (5/26) • Anti-Hero • Snow on the Beach (3/24) • You’re on Your Own, Kid (4/14) • Midnight Rain • Question…? (5/20) • Vigilante Shit • Bejeweled • Labyrinth • Karma • Sweet Nothing • Mastermind • The Great War (4/14) • Bigger Than the Whole Sky • Paris • High Infidelity (4/29) • Glitch • Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve (5/7) • Dear Reader • Hits Different (6/4)

Other

I don’t wanna live forever (6/3)

#reach out if I’m missing anything #eras tour #eras tour set list #surprise song #Taylor swift #taylor nation

[fireintheimpala]

McCartney II

Paul McCartney's 1980 album 'McCartney II' is such an interesting piece of work. It's a banging, sexy album! He finally breaks up Wings and releases his first solo album in a decade. He releases it in May 1980, Lennon loves it, and by June 1980 John Lennon is hard at work on his first album in 5 years.

What's this Lennon-inspiring album about??

I TRY not to read into McCartney's lyrics, since he keeps claiming they're all about "nothing in particular." But let's just list the tracks, skipping the instrumentals.

Coming Up - Hey guy who likes peace and stuff, you want (quotes Don't Let Me Down) a love to last forever? I wanna help. We can be together. We can make it! It's coming up like a flower, the word I most commonly use to describe love!

Temporary Secretary - I want a kinky secretary and I don't care what kind of girl she is.

On the Way - Well, we've been traveling for a long time and we finally finished here. Though I said some things to hurt you, well, it was only out of fear. Wouldn't want to see you crying so l hope you don't mind the things I say on the way. Well, you know I'll always love you. Everything will be alright.

Waterfalls - I need love

Nobody Knows - nobody knows, baby, and that's the way I like it

Summer's Day Song - tomorrow our bad dream will be over, the world will soon be waking

Bogey Music - we gotta bogey. clean your bogey act up, let's bogey!

Darkroom - I got a sexy dark place we can go, let me show you.

One of These Days

One of these days, when my feet are on the ground I'm gonna look around and see See what's right, see what's there And breathe fresh air ever after One of these days, when a job just takes too long I'm gonna sing my song and see See what's right, see what's there And breathe fresh air ever after It's there, it's round It's to be found By you, by me It's all we ever wanted to be One of these days, when we both are at our ease When you've got time to please yourself See what's right and see what's there And breathe fresh air ever after

And let us not forget its B-Side single!

Secret Friend - I know we'll find our way if you will say you'll be my secret friend. I need you.

This is the message that brought John Lennon out of retirement.

#mclennon #paul mccartney #mccartney ii #john lennon #coming up #let's pause this tale before december

[its-time-to-write]

can i request a continuation of the jamie x kent!reader baby fever fic where they actually have a kid? the best friend’s sister trope is one of my favs and i literally eat up anything you write🤍

I had some down time today, so I wrote a little thing for this! It probably makes more sense if you read the other fics in this Kent! reader universe. Here’s a list:

take your time while you’re mine

would it be enough if i never gave you peace

let’s fall in love for the night

Thanks for requesting!!

here in my arms

Roy is holding the tiniest baby he’s ever seen. 

“There’s no way I was ever that small,” Phoebe whispers from the couch next to him, and Roy agrees. Surely Phoebe was bigger than this little bundle he’s looking at. 

“Cute little lad, ain’t he?” Jamie says from the other couch. 

Roy’s not sure what to say because on the one hand, he doesn’t want to explicitly agree with something Jamie’s said but on the other hand… this kid’s fucking adorable. 

“Jamie,” calls your voice from upstairs.

“Coming!” he replies. “You’re good here, yeah Roy?”

Roy scoffs. Is he good here. He’s Uncle fucking Roy. He’s a pro.

“Right, I’ll take that as a yes then,” Jamie says. “Food should be here in an hour. If me ’n the missus ain’t awake by then, just let us be. We don’t need food.” He gets halfway out the room before he stops and asks, “You’re sure you’re good here?”

This time, Roy fully rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Tartt. Go get some sleep before my sister fucking murders you.”

Jamie says, “Right,” salutes to Phoebe, then turns on his heel to head upstairs to your bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and slips under the covers. The curtains are pulled, and it’s dark in the room despite the fact that it’s only the middle of the morning.

You’re barely awake, but you’ve tried your best to stay conscious until Jamie got there. You wiggle close to him and let him pull you into his arms.

“Kid’s fucking great, huh?” he whispers into your hair.

“Hm,” you agree.

“Mum said she’ll be down in a coupla days to help out. Simon’s coming too. Is that alright?”

“Don’t care,” you say. “I need sleep, babe. Kid’s seven days old and I am already wiped out. How’m I supposed to do this for eighteen years?”

Jamie’s rubbing circles on your back, and the only thing keeping you from sleep is the thought that you might not be cut out to be a mother.

“You’ve got me,” he says. “You’re not alone, babe, plus Phoebe can babysit in another three years.”

“I am not leaving George with a thirteen-year old,” you reply. “Nothing against Phoebs, but I can barely leave him with my brother right now without worrying about him. I just wish Molly weren’t so busy because I really, really need her right now.”

A tear leaks out of your eye onto Jamie’s shirt, but he doesn’t care. “It’s alright, babe,” he says, “swear down. Mum’s a fuckin’ genius with babies. She raised me, didn’t she? And I was a fucking handful.”

That just makes you cry even harder. “I want my mum, Jamie. Why did she have to go? I wish- I wish she and dad didn’t leave us. She’s supposed to be here, supposed to help with George and hold my hand and tell me I was the exact same when I was a baby but no she and dad had to fuck off to Paris or something stupid when I was two and leave me and Molly with our cousins! It’s shit. How can you just walk out on your own kids?”

Jamie kisses your forehead and says, “Oi, look. You’re already miles better at being a mum because you’re never going to walk out on George. And mum loves you, mostly because you make sure I eat real food, but she’ll stay as long as you need. I’m off training for another week, besides. Don’t have to go back just yet.”

You sniffle. “I should’ve had him during the off season.”

“Oh yeah, because we planned George’s conception all proper-like,” Jamie retorts.

You’re silent and for a moment he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, except you shudder once, so he knows you’re still crying. Jamie holds you as tight as he can, at a loss for words. He’s pretty sure you’re just tired with fucked-up hormones and that either Molly or his mum knows how to handle this, but for now he’s at a loss for a solution. He’s trying to think of something to say when you beat him to it.

“Do you think his middle name’s dumb?”

That is certainly not what he expected to hear. “Fuck no,” he replies. “George Kent Tartt? Kid’s going places with a name like that.”

You sigh. “He’s gonna fucking hate us for that. Shit, we should’ve done something normal.”

“How the fuck is ‘Kent,’ not normal? Y’know what’s mental? The fact that me mum named me ‘James Tartt.’ Come on, babe. Jam Tart? That’s all I ever got called in primary school.”

“I did veto a lot of your choices,” you murmur.

Jamie shakes his head. “You did, didn’t you? Shame. Kid could’ve been named ‘Apple Tartt.’ He’d’ve fucking loved that.”

“For sure,” you agree. Jamie’s glad to hear that your voice is returning to its normal, sleepy state so he tries to stay as still as possible. Sure enough, you emit a small snore less than a minute later. Jamie smiles to himself and closes his eyes. He thinks he can hear Roy saying something to George and/or Phoebe, so he lets himself drift off with you.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[babydollmarauders]

SPEAK NOW — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n attends her ex-boyfriend, Quinn’s wedding and can’t hold her peace

notes: barely any dialogue. like i’m so serious, very little dialogue. also not proofread and i think i hate this but it’s fine because i don’t think i could do any better and i worked way too long on this.

it was the last thing i expected.

to receive the elegant white cardstock that sits in my hand. flowers of muted colors are printed across the bottom, cursive lettering across the top.

‘You Are Formally Invited to the Wedding of Quinn Hughes & Lindsay Carter’

it’s not that i didn’t think this day would come. quite on the contrary, i feared it would come sooner. i know firsthand how special Quinn is. i knew some lucky girl would lock him down. Quinn is the type of love that you never let go.

but i did.

i made the mistake of letting go of his love.

letting go of him.

and now i’ll be forced to watch as he marries another girl. one who provided comfort and a shoulder for him to cry on when i broke his heart. one who helped him glue the pieces back together after i left.

we had both known the risks. getting together despite the warnings of his brothers. and Jack was right.

“romance is not worth risking a lifelong friendship.”

because in the end, i lost both.

i lost the love of my life and my best friend since kindergarten.

now reduced to awkward tension at conjoined family events, and pity invites to major events like these. more awkward to invite me than it is to face me afterwards, knowing that i knew what was happening and was deliberately left out.

setting the invitation on the counter, i check yes on the guest list website on my phone. confirming that i’ll be in attendance.

despite the envy that weighs heavy in my heart, and the irrational feeling of betrayal that eats at me, i know i’ll feel worse missing this milestone in Quinn’s life.

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

i’ve had months to prepare for this moment. to guard my heart and get ready to watch the only man i’ve ever loved, get married to another woman.

and in spite of that, all i’ve done is the very thing i spent the last two years keeping myself from doing.

asking about Lindsay.

i never thought they would get this far. under the impression that this was a fling and wouldn’t last long. the only thing i knew for two years was that they were opposites.

Quinn is a responsible, down-to-earth guy, focusing on feelings and equality in relationships. whereas she was more materialistic; never attending Quinn’s games unless she was guaranteed a photo opportunity, using his card to buy luxury items, and according to Jack, constantly reminding Quinn how low he had felt before she came into his life.

and now, after asking around and learning everything i could, i can guarantee that Quinn doesn’t know half the things that i do.

i can guarantee he doesn’t know that she was a bully in high school, that that mean girl attitude never left. i can guarantee he doesn’t know that she brags to all her friends that she bagged a rich fiancé and she’ll never have to work to afford her luxury lifestyle, or that she has no issue in saying he isn’t attractive but his money makes up for it. and i know he doesn’t know she’s been sleeping with her personal trainer when Quinn is out of town.

and i know what i must do today, despite my nerves.

there’s still thirty minutes until the ceremony actually begins, and no matter how much i’ve steeled myself, i’ll never be ready to face the pity filled glances and the sympathetic words of Quinn and i’s families and friends. so, i wander the halls of the stuffy church, thinking about how unlike Quinn this all is.

perhaps he’s changed his mind since we had fantasizingly planned our own wedding. laid in bed, the golden sunrise lighting his face in a greek god-like way, speaking in hushed whispers, discussing our dream wedding. nothing like this one.

my feet pause on their own accord as yelling reaches my ears, and i identify the sound coming from an open door down the hall as Lindsay.

“are you stupid?” her voice drifts out of the room, carried by the empty space. “i told you to get nude heels, not cream!”

i make quick work to pass by the room, catching just a glimpse of the blonde bride, her fluffy white gown swallowing her.

heaving out a relieved sigh, i try to ignore the pounding in my chest, turning left down the hall and towards the main room. maybe it’s best for me to just get the pity and commiseration over with.

my heels click against the hardwood floor of the crowded room, and a hush falls over most of the right side. Quinn’s side.

scanning the room, i’m grateful to find Trevor and Cole. i know Quinn’s family is with him getting ready, but i at least have these two to bring me some comfort amongst the sea of strangers.

“y/n, you came!”

pop! the comfort bubble has broken. i thought i could trust Cole to treat me normally, but the gentle incredulous tone of his voice tells me otherwise. a mix of shock and sympathy.

“yeah, of course i did.” my lips quirk in a forced smile, shoving any resentment and nerves down deep inside me. “i wouldn’t miss Quinny’s big day.”

“y/n/n, you know you don’t have to act strong in front of us, right?” Trevor’s hand rubs my arm, providing the perfect grounding for me.

“yeah, no, i know that.” i nod. “but seriously, guys, i’m fine. i knew this day would come.”

“it’s not too late.” Cole jokes. “the priest does say that whole ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ thing, right?”

i let out a genuine chuckle at the deep and ominous tone he uses to imitate the priest; the first real laugh i’ve had all day. if only he knew.

i join Trevor and Cole in finding seats, sitting in the 4th row. not quite at the front, but also not quite the middle. i perch in the seat closest to the aisle, open for a quick getaway if needed.

the guys engage me in small talk, asking me about my job and frowning when i give the generic answer of ‘it’s okay.’

but i couldn’t tell them the truth, could i? that i hated it. that i regretted ever taking it. that it wasn’t the job that was bad, but rather that i was filled to the brim with resentment that it took me away from the man i love.

i knew i had brought it upon myself. i made myself this miserable. i chose this job over him. i got the internship and thought Quinn and i could withstand the distance while i was in Boston, but i was wrong. we didn’t make it more than two months before i was forced to watch our relationship crumble before me; knowing there was nothing i could do to fix us, i had to let him go.

i knew he would live on. i knew he would be able to put our relationship in the past. but i was only more disconsolate than ever. stuck in a mournful heartbreak. unable to move on and unwilling to try.

i’m shaken from my thoughts by Cole, who points out the mother of the bride walking down the aisle, signifying that the ceremony is getting underway.

i strain my back, twisting around in my seat. my eyes are drawn to the open double doors, where Quinn makes his entrance. his parents on either side of him.

my heart races in my chest, my nerves settling low within my stomach. he looks breath taking. but i can’t help noticing the lack of spark in his eyes. the once lively eyes that used to be so full of emotion, now seem empty.

my gaze tracks his movement, following as he walks down the aisle and to the altar, coming to a stop in front of the priest. his parents take their seats as he scans the room, seemingly searching, and when our eyes meet, he seems to stiffen. his back straightening and his jaw locking.

i can only hope my eyes convey everything i’m thinking.

i’m sorry.

please don’t do this.

his brothers are quick to follow down the aisle, decked out in navy blue suits, joining him at the altar as his groomsmen.

Jack’s lips quirk up in a smirk when he sees me, and he sends me a wink, but i can’t muster anything more than a simple straight lipped expression.

the next 20 minutes go by in a blur, a haze of bridesmaids and eventually Lindsay making her entrance.

“dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore - is not by any - to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly - but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly.”

the priest begins, and i’ve been to enough weddings to know what comes next. steeling my nerves, i take a deep breath in, letting it escape back past my lips with a silent whoosh.

“should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

a silence falls over the room, the priest looking out over the seated crowd.

my hands tremble by my sides, anxiety growing deep within me, but i know this is my last chance.

i rise to my feet, slowly and shakily. i can hear whispers start from the left side of the room, and i glance around to find everyone staring at me with horrified looks. everyone but Quinn’s immediate family and friends.

Jack and Luke share a glance before letting out relieved sighs; but i’m only focused on Quinn, who stares back at me with wide eyes and parted lips.

“go on.” the priest urges me, an annoyed expression painting his face.

Lindsay’s face turns red, hands balled into fists at her sides.

“don’t say ‘yes’.” i plead of Quinn.

“y/n-” he sighs, and my heart skips a beat in my chest, the well-known effect he has on me.

“you need to hear me out.” i beg. “Quinn, i’m sorry. i’m sorry i let us go, i’m sorry i didn’t fight harder for us, and i’m sorry i ever even took that stupid internship. but even if i’m too late to win you back, you deserve better than this.

“she’s been using you for your name and your money.” i continue, but Quinn squeezes his eyes shut in disbelief. whether he’s in disbelief of Lindsay or me, i can’t be sure. “and she’s been cheating on you.”

gasps sound out across the room and his eyes snap open wide again. his gaze flickers between me and his bride, who has now turned a pale white; all color draining from her face at my accusation.

“she’s lying! she just wants you to herself! she had her chance and she lost it and now she doesn’t want you happy.” Lindsay cries out.

“i have it on good authority that she’s been sleeping with her trainer when you’re out of town. you know i wouldn’t say anything if i weren’t completely sure. if i didn’t have proof.” i tell him “and you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who will be absolutely head over heels, purely, and loyally in love with you. and i’m not saying that i’m that person for you. this isn’t me begging for a second chance, even if i am still out of my mind in love with you. i just can’t stand idly by and watch you make a mistake. i can’t let you marry her without knowing the truth.”

i take a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. silence plagues the room, astonishment written all over the faces over every guest in attendance.

“okay, that’s all i wanted to say.” i purse my lips and nod, stepping out into the aisle. my heels click against the floor as i make my exit, not staying to see the outcome of my outburst.

***

i sit on my couch, staring at my hands fidgeting in my lap; my phone shut down entirely and sitting face down on the coffee table in front of me, not ready to face the consequences of my earlier actions.

a movie plays on my tv, but i pay no attention, only having put it on in attempt to escape my thoughts and avoid the quiet.

it’s been approximately twelve hours since i objected to my ex’s wedding. now midnight, and my anxiety has not lessened. i have no clue whether Quinn carried on with his marriage or if he took my words to hold the truth. too afraid to find out.

i’m broken out of my trance by a heavy knock sounding out on the door of my apartment, and i stand frantically. i expect that it’s Jack or one of the many other friends in attendance of the wedding this afternoon, but my heart rate picks up when i look through the peephole to find the very man i confessed my love to today.

my hand shakes as i unlock the door, opening it to reveal Quinn. he’s no longer in his tux, rather adorning sweatpants and a t-shirt, but he still looks handsome to me.

“Quinn.”

“i didn’t say my vows.” he rushes out.

“what?” i question, fearing i heard him wrong.

“i didn’t say my vows.” he repeats, pushing past me and into my entry hall. “she tried to deny what you told me, but i trust you. i held my ground, and she confessed everything. you were right.”

“Quinn, please.” i plead. “i’m happy that you’re not upset with me but i can’t-”

“i’m so glad you were there.” he cuts me off, snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. “were you telling the truth?”

“Quinn, you just said she confessed-” i push against his chest, tears gathering in my eyes.

“about being sorry. about still being in love with me. were you telling the truth?” he clarifies, his free hand coming up to hold both of mine in his clutch, and my arms go slack.

“yes.” the tension in the air is palpable, and i’m unsure whether it’s worrisome or comforting.

“say it again.” he breathes out, a subtle smile resting on his lips.

“i love you.” a lone tear spills over my waterline, rolling down my cheek. “i am absolutely and irrevocably in love with you.”

his lips crash upon mine in a bruising kiss, finally letting go of my hands in favor of resting his right one against my cheek. i stiffen against him, seizing up in his hold, and he pulls back. his eyes scan my face, his face etched in worry.

“did i do something wrong?” a hoarse whisper, our faces still millimeters apart.

my hands raise to cup the back of his neck, pulling his lips back down to mine. my eyes flutter shut,this time it’s slow and passionate; holding my heart on my sleeve as i pour my soul out to him in the form of a kiss.

he pulls away, pressing his forehead against mine, but my eyes remain shut. we’re both silent, nothing but the sound of our mingling breaths and the tv lowly drifting in from the other room.

“i love you too.”

#speak now fic list #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes blurb #vancouver canucks #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic #faithlynn’s writings <3

[samkerrworshipper]

Begging for you to write something involving Sammy concealing a strap plsss 😘🫶

based off of her most recent pics from the esquire cover….

i know we all want another chapter of 2s a company, 3s a crowd and i promise it’s on the way just taking longer than planned !

warnings: insinuations of smut

———————————————————————

Sam looked utterly delectable.

It wasn’t often that you were able to sit in on her photoshoots, or interviews, scheduling conflicts always seemed to arise.

It was a sacred opportunity, a little special sweet moment that you were more than happy to experience from the sidelines. It was rare that you got to sit on the sidelines, got to appreciate Sam in this kind of way, so you were more than happy to be someone in the background as they got her dolled up.

You could hardly contain yourself when she walked out of the dressing rooms in the first suit, a classic black suit with a crisp white shirt. You almost choked on the air, blinking rapidly as you took it all in.

“You likey chick?”

You weren’t even sure what to say to that, did dogs bark? Was the sky blue?

“Feeling cocky are we Ms Kerr?”

Sam smirked at your, a big fat grin covering her flawlessly makeup covered face, it was rare to see Sam so made up, you loved her in all of her forms, sweaty after games, bed hair in the mornings, but this made you feel things, things you weren’t exactly proud of.

She walked towards you, extending the sleeves of her shirt and two cufflinks. You took the two pieces of cold metal in your palms, before gently taking her hand in yours and beginning to secure the cufflinks.

“Cocky, baby? You wound me, good looking, beautiful and stunning yes, but definitely not cocky.”

You rolled your eyes at Sam, smiling lightly as you continued to work on the starched sleeve.

“Add humble to the list.”

Sam snickered a little bit, your banter was her favourite part of your relationship, you both knew how to have fun, but you also knew where the line was between jokes and going too far.

“Soo, do you like the outfit?”

Sam sounded almost bashful, the previous confidence had faded from her voice, she sounded more raw and hopeful.

You looked up from Sam’s sleeve, again taken aback at just how breathtakingly good she looked.

“Sammy, baby, you look absolutely perfect, the picture of beauty.”

She preened a little bit with your praise, whether she wanted to admit it or not, nobody's opinion mattered to hers beside yours, you were the only person in the world that’s thoughts of her she truly valued.

“Good, now sit here like my good little wag and I’ll give you a reward once we’re done, I’ve got a surprise for you waiting.”

Your whole body shivered as Sam leant down to your ear to whisper the words directly into your ear. You could hardly think with her in that suit, but her in that suit plus the insinuation that she had something planned for once you were done was enough to send off fireworks from your core to your spine.

She pressed a little peck to your jaw before standing herself up, righting her clothes and then walking towards the photographers, leaving you ultimately high and dry.

Sam had done enough photoshoots to know exactly what she was doing, how to pose, how to act, how to smile. It was magical watching her at work, a different kind of work that you were used to.

Dating Sam Kerr ultimately included a lot of pitch-side watching, it was extremely rare that you were ever able to see her engage in this kind of work, you valued all kinds of her work, but this was especially perfect.

It didn’t take her long to get it done, she was well versed in the media and the photographers were extremely happy to let her take the lead and do whatever she was comfortable with.

You just sat on the side, she looked ethereal in your eyes, a figure of perfection.

When she was all wrapped up you were more than happy to follow her into her changeroom to enjoy some peace before you were dragged off to whatever else she had planned for the day.

Sam sat down on the couch in the corner of the room, already beginning to unbutton her shirt loosen the bun that her hair was in.

“Come over here honey.”

Sam pointed to her lap, you were more than happy to oblige her request and walk towards her, setting yourself down across her lap.

“M’ so proud of you, that was incredible.”

Sam smiled at you, pressing a little nudge of a kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you baby, I think it’s time I give you your surprise hmm? You’ve waited long enough.”

Sam’s hands came down to your hips, tugging you further down her lap.

It took you a few seconds to adjust to the new feeling, and once you did your jaw dropped slightly.

You nudged yourself around just a little bit, making sure that your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you, but from further investigation your jaw only dropped further, your mind going dangerous places as the cogs ticked in your brain.

“D-Did-were you wearing that the whole time?”

Sam’s sardonic smile was enough of an answer for you.

“Mm, your favourite one.”

You struggled to contain a moan, as your ass relaxed against the feeling of the hard silicone pressing directly against your muscles.

“Samantha May.”

Sam nudged her hips up against yours, half thrusting the appendage further into your clothed ass cheeks.

“What?”

You bit down on your lip.

“You seriously wore a fucking strap during a serious shoot, what if you’d gotten caught?”

Sam just chuckled, her hands snaking their way around your waist and gently resting on your hip bones.

“Twitter probably would have gone crazy.”

You rolled your eyes at Sam’s effortless excuse, the humour coming to her tongue concerningly easily.

“You're teasing me Samantha.”

Your voice is matter of fact, calm, cool, collected, it’s nothing like what your body is feeling with a dildo pressed directly into you.

Sam leant up to your ear, her breath tickling against your neck.

“Well then, how about I get changed then and we head home, hmm? Or you could just save the horse now and ride your favourite cowgirl.”

It took every part of your self control to not hike your skirt up in that moment and reach down for Sam’s fly, but you had some self preservation, and enough common sense to know that it was not a smart decision to start something here that you couldn’t finish.

“Hurry up and get changed then, before I change my mind.”

Sam practically shoved you beside her on the couch, springing out of her seat and beginning to quickly remove all of her clothes.

You averted eye contact on purpose, you knew that if your eyes came into contact with the strap then you were a complete goner, self preservation or not.

Once Sam was changed and stripped of all the makeup you were more than happy to have her lead you out to the car, with a promise of a good time when you finally made it back to your apartment.

#woso #woso community #sam kerr #sam kerr smutttt #sam kerr is daddy #sam kerr imagine #sam kerr x reader #samantha may #fluffy smut #chelsea wfc #on my knees for sammy k #sammy k appreciation #sam kerr appreciation post #i love sam kerr #yay for a post #cocky sam vibes #daddy sam

[jongseongsnudes]

thirteen.

warning; 😪😪😪😪 1k words. masterlist.

“want to add this on your list perhaps?”

what started out as a joke earlier became something too real, something you literally whipped out a whole new notebook and pen for. much to jake’s amusement.

“yes, i very much do jake. this is serious.”

the man rolls his eyes at your words and continues watching tv while you jotted down more than necessary dot points. 

after that little interaction in the kitchen where you both agreed on a new start, you decided it’d be best to establish ‘roommate rules’. something you should’ve done from the start. there were months left on your lease and whether you’ll move out or not by the end of it, it was better to stay civil.

“we’ll add more as we go,” you hand him the list, making him chuckle before he even looked at it.

“you can’t be serious about this one? no walking around topless?” he scoffs while looking at you as if it was the most ridiculous thing he has ever read, “does that apply to just me... or the both of us?”

you choke at the way his gaze suddenly falls down to your shirt. it evokes something inside of you, something that has your thighs immediately rubbing together. unfortunately you were still working on your very mild attraction to the man.

although you’ve sworn to not fall for this man’s fuckboy ways anymore, you can’t deny that he’s attractive. very, very attractive. if you could suggest for him to always wear a mask of some sort in the apartment, you would’ve, trust.

“b- both of us!”

“oh. what a shame.”

“i’m serious jake!”

“i am too, roomie,” he says with a smug grin, his shoulder bumping into yours lightly, his face now much closer to yours than before. 

it’s like he knows just how to get you worked up, only needing to switch up his voice a tiny bit. that god damn voice that gets you feeling all sorts of emotions at once.

“no nicknames too!” you blurt out before you could stop yourself, realising how stupid you must’ve seem to suggest such a thing.

“roomie,” the man leans in even more much to your horror, something he immediately noticed with the face you’re making. it only causes him to laugh more, “i’m starting to think this list is quite... personal.”

you hop off the couch before he could get any closer, your poor heart working on overdrive at the thought of what could’ve happened if you didn’t move. but at this point, you don’t want to know and aren’t willing to find out.

“it’s not. i’m just adding what’s necessary. whatever i’m gonna make dinner.”

you rush to the kitchen, ready to busy yourself and your mind on making dinner instead of the man currently laughing in the living room. but you’re glad, glad that there were now rules set in place that will hopefully be followed.

and let you live in peace for the rest of your lease.

“is helping with dinner breaking any of the rules?”

the man’s words has you immediately whipping your head back, brows furrowed at his blatant teasing. one of the many dot points on the list. 

“i’m kidding, lighten up beauti-” he stops mid word when he notices your expression change yet again, “okay. what do you need help with my dear roommate?”

the next half an hour flies by with him busy chopping up the ingredients as told while you’re making some soup. it’s done so in complete silence but it’s a nice type of silence, where you’re both just doing your own thing but at the same time, enjoying each other’s company.

it had been such a long time since you’ve felt this way with jake, hell you’re not sure whether you’ve ever felt this calm around him. the first few weeks living with the man was hell from what you remembered, always having to be on high alert with his blatant flirtatious ways.

but this, this was definitely something you could get used to.

“alright the carrots are done,” the man says in almost a cheer type of way, proudly showing you the result of his 30 minute chopping journey, “i did such a good job.”

“hm yes. a verrrrrrry good job,” you can’t help but fall into a fit of laughter at the sad looking, uneven circles on his plate that you’re sure your 4 year old cousin would’ve done a better job at. “they look beautiful jake! wow!”

“are you making fun of me?” his brows raise threatening as he steps forward, almost trapping you in against the kitchen counter, the plate of carrots still in his hold, “are you teasing my carrots too?”

“no! they’re really beautiful!” you tried your hardest to hold your laughter but the serious look on his face did it for you. it broke you.

before you could even react, the man grabs the hose from the sink and aims it directly at you. and knowing jake sim, you’re sure he would do it too.

“one more lie and you go swimming.”

“jake sim i swear if you- JAKE!”

and like you had already expected, he really does spray it towards you, drenching your face and parts of your top. without hesitation, you charge towards him in an attempt to steal the hose but with your height difference, the man was able to hold it high above without struggle.

unlike the struggle you’re currently going through.

“wait til i get that hose-” you’re jumping up and down between words, hands grasping onto his chest in order to jump higher but that only results in you almost falling onto him numerous times.

“so much for rules huh.”

you open your mouth to question him, only to realise the position you were in. your hands were on him, his arm around you, your faces only a breath apart.

“rule 2 and 3. and especially rule 1,” the proud smirk that appears on his face immediately has you frozen in place but it’s the way he leans in just a tiny bit more that has you holding your breath altogether. “we just broke all 3 in one go.”

rule 3; keep a suitable distance to each other.

rules 2; no physical contact unless necessary.

rule 1; strictly NO flirting.

you should’ve known that this would happen, to fail all the rules in two seconds. but what else were you expecting, especially with the other party being jake sim.

your one ultimate weakness from the very start.

end.

-

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[1dcommunityficrecs]

Historical AUs!

We have 26 incredible fics submitted to this list, stretching from the fifth century up to the 1990s. We have stories that fit into just over 2,000 words, and others that are more than 200,000! This list includes one LiLo fic, and we also have our first ever non-English rec, with a French language fic -- truly the language of love.

To all my fellow history lovers, it's time to go apeshit. Read, reblog, comment, kudos, bookmark, tell your friends, all that jazz -- your local fanfic writer appreciates it!

Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds (88649, Not Rated, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Violence, bullying, homophobia, slurs

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

Reccer says: The beautifully chosen words, the captivating story, the queer joy!!!

Unrequited by babyhoneyhslt (144000, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Omega Prince Harry is send to France to marry Prince Louis, but instead of the nice boy he knew when they were children, he is met with a cold and distant husband and no idea as to why.

Reccer says: It was so interesting to follow along with this and try to figure out why Louis was behaving this way. And then later see them fall in love. Really liked it and can't recommend it enough.

Danger I can’t hide by CelticSky (227290, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: War, homophobia

Flying Officer Styles and Sergeant Tomlinson would have likely never crossed paths in a time of peace, their lives laid out neatly, predictably before them. But then the world became unrecognisable. Too soon they grew accustomed to fear, surrounded by death and destruction, not even their freedom a certainty any more. Until they found each other. Comfort. Companionship. Understanding. Another person to lose.

Reccer says: It's one of those fics that I'd describe as monumental, masterful, epic. In my opinion, it should be made into a film, and brought to everyone's attention. The script is brilliant and relentless. The characters are subtle and nuanced. The writing is exemplary. A masterpiece.

Secrets in Winter by softfonds (82582, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

Reccer says: I loved the plot and the character development of the main pairing.

A cycle of recycled revenge by Brokenbeaks (103302, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Foxburgh, England, 1983. In the heat of summer, wreathed by pastures, rolling knolls, and thatched-roof cottages, Louis takes on a new job: caretaking for a recently blinded man named Harry. As it begins, what seems like a simple task turns into a quest that costs him every last bit of his pride and tolerance. Harry is, in practice, a two-legged curse. And Louis is just gonna have to put up with it. Or: The one where Harry likes to infuriate Louis almost as much as he enjoys straddling his lap.

Reccer says: Absolutely excellent. I was a bit worried about how Harry's blindness would be handled, but it was done wonderfully. Perfect fic. Perfect writing. Perfect plot.

Through Lonely Streets and Neon Lights by Sweetly_disposed (25107, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

1920's era, Great Gatsby inspired. Harry is a poor boy living in the South Village. Every night he watches the North City come alive and longs of crossing the river to be a part of it and escape his dreary life. The infamous Mr Tomlinson lives across the river from Harry. His parties are the stuff of legend; people on both sides know about them, and all Harry wants is a chance to go to one. When fate swings his way and he finds himself in Mr Tomlinson's house, he gets much more than he could ever have bargained for.

Reccer says:

Chasing empty spaces by Lis (Domesticharry) (79028, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

Reccer says: This fic is simply magnificent. A must read

An invincible Summer by Brooklyn_Babylon (44627, Explicit, Harry Styles Louis Tomlinson)

Never content to stay in one place for long, a few months down south researching for his novel seemed like an idyllic, slow-paced summer to Louis. He wasn't ready for the blistering heat, the backbreaking work of watermelon picking, or how stifling the attitudes in rural Georgia would feel. And he definitely hadn’t anticipated falling in love with the farmer’s son. The summer of 1946 would turn out to be everything worth writing about.

Reccer says:

Box of Rain by Indierection (amandamoraisa) (26631, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

1970 AU, Louis is a boxer and Harry a ring boy

Reccer says: The era is well transcribed (the way of life, the music), and the story is very charming.

Cela aussi passera (French-language fic) by Hazzunah (110721, Not Rated, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

1993: Louis is 16. It's summertime, by a lake in France. He meets Harry. 1999: Louis is in Japan; he hasn't seen Harry for 6 years, since that fateful summer. He thought he'd lost him forever.

Reccer says: For years, I've been reading only in English, but there's still the odd French fic that I come across that's really good. "This too shall pass" is one of them. It's set in the 90s, it's beautifully written, it's moving, and the characters are well characterized. For me, it's a gem. So I recommend it. For anyone who can read in French.

You Make The World Taste Better by LiveLaughLoveLarry/loveislarryislove (10000, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Harassment and threats from the rival baker, culminating in physical violence and a grisly end in keeping with the fairy tale

A twist on Hansel and Gretel as a rivalry between bakers, based on Hans Traxler’s fictional non-fictional text "The Truth About Hansel and Gretel"

Reccer says: This fic is such a wild adaptation of a story almost everyone knows, capturing both the sweet (literally, since Harry is a baker haha) elements and also the darkness of the tale.

No One Like You by myownspark (20000, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles were noted painters in the 19th century. Louis was a Neoclassicist, Harry a Romantic -- totally different, nothing in common, no connection. But centuries later, art historians Niall and Liam find something that suggests perhaps the two were more intertwined than people think.

Reccer says: I love the parallel timelines, watching Louis and Harry's relationship develop and fracture and heal at the same time as watching Niall and Liam discover things. We see pieces of history they're trying to puzzle together, and then we see the history as it happened, what it really was and what it meant to them.

Bloom by LadyAJ_13 (28909, Teen, Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Non-graphic violence, period-typical attitudes

In early 1970s Oxford, Detective Sergeant Louis Tomlinson has to deal with the dual pressures of a case that hits too close to home, and the arrival of new colleague Liam Payne.

Reccer says: This was an incredible, atmospheric, moody historical mystery fic. Topped off with a lovely, happy ending that had me tearing up.

Under Electric Candlelight by littleroverlouis (5051, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

In the 1970s, small town veterinarian Louis moves to NYC and meets a beauty at the bar named H who sometimes goes by Lola.

Reccer says: So immersive you feel like you're in 1970s Manhattan. The characters are truly electric and lovely.

this is my jam by disgruntledkittenface (4513, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Harry goes to a gay bathhouse for the first time. 90s AU.

Reccer says: This story is so much more than it first appears. I could feel the atmosphere and the emotion of the moment of the characters finding a freedom that didn't exist for them outside of the bathhouse's walls. It's an absolutely beautiful (and hot) exploration of such a specific time and place. So layered and thoughtful and hopeful and real.

After Dark, After Light by QuickedWeen (71440, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Kidnapping, battlefield

Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses. As the winter draws nearer by the day, the two are thrown together to prepare for the invasion that they expect as soon as the ground thaws.

Reccer says: This fic just sweeps you away to the Scottish Highlands! Such a fun historical romance!

the sanctity of patience by scrunchyharry (22521, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

When young Lord Harry was chosen by King Louis of Bavaria to become his husband and prince consort, Harry thought all of his dreams had come through. His illusions came crashing down when he understood it meant living in isolation in the alpine castle of Neuschwanstein with a husband who turned out to be far from what he had hoped for.

Reccer says: The writing is gorgeous and immersive. The characters are so vivid and I loved the way their journey to love played out.

Ace of Spades by allwaswell16 (78000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: depictions of violence, drug use

Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.

Reccer says: Once I started reading, I couldn't put it down. The plot twists! The suspense! The intrigue!

Adore You by Isthatyoularry (66979, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Arrange marriage AU, Harry initially hates Louis and their arrangement but goes along with it for the summer. Louis is perfect for him tho, as much as harry hates to admit it. They last.

Reccer says: The word building. Stubborn harry. Pining louis. Catching feelings. Hate to love.

We Can Find a Place to Feel Good by yeah_alright/uhoh-but-yeah-alright (8000, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

1960s AU inspired by Treat People With Kindness. Harry attends school dances over the years, meeting Louis and learning more about himself and what he loves.

Reccer says: Just so completely sweet and hopeful! Captures the vibe of the song so well!

The Garden Part 1 by Throwthemflowers/hazzabeeforlou (13000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Major character death, war

Biblical AU - 5th Century. A prince (Louis) falls in love with his father’s musician (Harry) in the midst of war.

Reccer says: This story is so hard to describe (it's Part 1 of a truly incredible 3-part series) but it's intense and brilliant and epic. The love here is all consuming and it comes through in the writing. Completely unique.

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by fairytalefemme (25896, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: internalized homophobia

40s/50s AU. Harry leaves his bride-to-be at the altar, runs away from his life, and finds a kind farmer who lets him stay.

Reccer says: Such a sweet, tender exploration of love and self.

With Words Unspoken by jacaranda_bloom (18000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Older Louis and Harry. 50ish Louis returns to a cabin he'd visited many years before and it's a hippie commune type place where he finds Harry.

Reccer says: It just made me SO HAPPY. Peaceful and lovely.

1957: here to take my medicine by zita17/louisandtheaquarian (2652, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Beat poets Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles blow off some steam before a reading.

Reccer says: Literally transports you to this particular time and place. And so so hot.

The murmur of yearning by Mediawhore (93300, Mature, Harry Styles/ Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: Rape/non-con attempts, death of character, slurs etc

Harry upon the death of his husband he was forced to marry find companionship and support in the arms of Land steward mr. tomlinson. Together they try to prove harry didnt murder his husband.

Reccer says: Regency era. Dark academia. Mystery and suspense. Forbidden love trope. The angst and mutual pining. Harry in corsets!

Love you in the dark by Perzikze (9225, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: Dubious consent i think, loss of virginity

Story of a historical wedding night. Innocent Harry has no idea what goes down during the wedding night; Louis eases him through it.

Reccer says: Innocent harry. Supportive Louis. It's adorable and sexy at once!

Stay tuned for the next list theme! It's similar... but different... ;)

#rec list #category 5 #historical au #one direction #louis tomlinson #harry styles #liam payne #niall horan #zayn malik #1dsource #1dficvillage #ficsfor4am #tracksintheam #trackinghome #allwaswell16 #alwaysxlarrie #1d rare pairs #hlcreators #girl direction source

[starberry-cupcake]

Hello, I haven't had time to read as much as I would want but I'm here with an update regardless, because if I don't keep these constant, I'm gonna forget things and this, so far, seems like a book in which I don't wanna forget things.

previously, in harrowbean the ninth:

this happened

currently, after "parodos" and ch. 1:

so I'm making up a timeline in my head with the information at hand

which is never straightforward

that'd be too easy, here in tlt we like to be kept on our toes

we like to be punched in the gut when we least expect it

so get ready for bad math

this would probably make our good friend palmolive atreides weep

I'm sorry palomilve's force ghost, I'm doing my best

SO

the first entry was the night of the emperor being terminated

the "parodos" bit (we'll get to that) is 14 months before the emperor is snuffed out

ch. 1 is nine months before the emperor kicks the bucket

I believe act 1 is going to be happening around that time, since ch. 2 seems to be following without another indication

because of what happens in "parodos" aka flashback, aka prologue 2: elecric bogaloo, we can attempt to estimate when the events of gideon happened

harrowbean tells ortus in the flashback that he's gonna train with aiglamene for 12 weeks

let's assume that's kind of the amount of time gideon trained, plus the time it took harrow to plot how to girlsplain, gatekeep and gaslight gideon into it

the only one girlbossing here is camilla, I don't make the rules

so, if gideon and harrow were ready to leave the ninth somewhere around 2-3 months after the flashback, it'd be circa 11 months before the events in the prologue

and ch. 1 starts 9 months before the events in the prologue

so gideon might have happened somewhere around 11-10 months before the prologue

I can't tell how long they were in canaan house (it felt like 12 years and 5 minutes at the same time) but I think about a month is mostly right, given that once bodies start dropping, things are all happening together

all of this is relative, since time in space is ????

but I need to do this for my own peace of mind

if you give me time measurements I'm gonna measure, ok?

I need to organize things

I know I will end up making a graphic at some point I just know it

this is what I get for calling palmolive a turbonerd

ANYWAY, MOVING ON

or, moving back, since we're in prologue 2: electric bogaloo aka flashback time

here we have ortus (the one we knew, not the one we will get to know, according to the characters list) telling harrow he doesn't wanna go to the field trip

this is ortus

if you're wondering why I don't nickname ortus, I'll repeat myself but "orto" means "ass" where I'm from, so that's enough to remember him by

harrow is like "I know you're underqualified but we're understaffed, so it is what it is"

the important part is that harrowbean says she sees the barbie in the freezer walking about

like a ghost or whatnot

she refers to her as "the body" and I assume that's barbie in the ice cube because someone reblogged my recap where I mentioned her and tagged

ever since then I've been wondering why she was referred to as The Body and now I'm gonna assume this is it

so harrow tells ortus he needs to hide the fact that she's mentally unstable

[non funny side note: masking is unbearable and it's awful we live in a social and cultural environment where we feel pressured to do it, especially when you're an adult having to fulfill expectations of supposedly "age-specific" activities and responsibilities, it's exhausting and I cried about that in therapy a mere week ago so, hitting hard, this bit

don't let people make you feel "less than" because the way in which you navigate the world and your experiences is different from what's expected in some theoretical socially constructed category

and fuck everyone who, in order to put people down in arguments online, ever make fun of those who aren't mentally, economically or socially as independent as what the category of an adult is supposed to be to them

argue with concepts, argue with opinions and facts, don't tear people down in the name of "moral upper hand" by telling people they're losers for needing help

side note done]

so, harrow entered the whole canaan thing not only carrying the weight of her house, her family and her entire people

she also came into it believing she's not mentally sound and seeing The Body walking around unnoticed by other people

whether or not her visions are mentally unsettled or something that actually happens because she opened the tomb, just the whole situation of her birth is enough to make anyone collapse, so we got you, harrowbean

we're here for you

and all that without mentioning what it'd be like seeing your girlfriend cavalier impale herself in front of you

I'm taking liberties with the 'girlfriend' bit but idk

so, next we know, 5 months have passed from that and harrowcita is struggling in her new environment of the clown emperor's ship

she is made to carry gideon's sword and she can't

she can't seem to know what to do or to communicate with said knowledge and she's throwing up a lot

WHICH IS GREAT!!!!!

I mean, it's not great that she's suffering

but it's GREAT because if she can't communicate with gideon's slurped soul, maybe it means gideon's soul has not been slurped AT ALL

more fuel for my wishful thinking of gideon's soul returning to her and getting regenerated and saved and being alive

I also like very much this situation in which harrow sees the sword as personified and they hate each other without gideon

it's like prim's cat in the hunger games with katniss

but with an inanimate object

I'm really liking that dynamic

is like they both miss her and can't relate to each other

ALSO barbie body ice cube is still there

just chillin' and being silently supportive, I think

not sure what her deal is but what if she's not the bad one here? because this emperor kind of sucks tbh

not in a 'he's evil' way but in a 'idk if he know what he's doing' way

I don't know about this guy tbh

so we're leaving off with harrow being mentally and physically struggling, ghost barbie roamin' the rooms, voices of people organizing stock and gideon in my head like this, walking in limbo to get back to us

also, another day without camilla

I thought I wasn't gonna have much to say and this is so long, I'm so sorry...

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #tlt #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw