#maybe after all this and other things keeping me busy i can find the emotion for creating things again

[nelyyo]

something so freeing about saying goodbye to a friendship, even though it's not over

[hqwkeyes]

Falling for the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k+ Warnings: swearing, uhh fluff, slight angst?, matt is a flirt, i edited this while fighting 6g melatonin Summary: Matt Murdock is a known flirt, and a successful one, at that. You've seen him work his magic on women dozens of times. But one night, he attempts to use that Murdock charm on you. He might've fallen first, but you just might fall harder... maybe.

Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

Matt Murdock is many things: a great lawyer, a great friend, but most of all, he's a flirt. A merciless flirt, at that. A charmer and a tease. He has a way of making people, specifically women, feel special. It comes naturally to him, much to Foggy's dismay in his pre-Marci days.

You've been working at Nelson, Murdock, and Page for a while now, and you just sort of clicked with the group early on. There have been several occasions when you were all out at Josie's and Matt would work his magic on a woman. You would all watch as he'd flirt with them, charm them, and often times leave with them. It was a running joke in the group, at this point, that Matt was sort of a...philanderer, if you will. He didn't lead these women on, though. Matt was still pretty much a gentleman.

Although he keeps to himself more than the others, you've always been pretty close friends with Matt. He looks out for you the same way he does for Karen and Foggy, and you trust him—like really trust him. Was there a vibe you got from him sometimes? Sure, but you were also well aware that Matt could probably charm a brick wall if he wanted to, and you generally try not to fall for antics like that.

It's been a long week, and this case you were all working had dragged on for weeks in court. You all had done your best work for your client, but you weren't sure how the verdict would pan out. In the end, you guys won the case, and now it was time to celebrate.

Josie's is fairly busy. Foggy brought Marci tonight, and you all get yourselves a drink before claiming the pool table, which is thankfully free. The five of you toast to the big win in court before cutting loose a bit and playing a few games.

You're sitting at a table nearby with Karen, chatting a bit while Foggy plays against Marci—which is incredibly entertaining. Matt is by Foggy's side for emotional support, which he definitely needs. When both your drinks are empty, Karen gets up to get the two of you another round. After a few minutes, you peek over at the bar, wondering what's taking your friend so long. You're only a little surprised to find her talking it up with a guy. She's the friendly sort, but this seems like a bit more than just friendly. He's handsome and very much her type. Another minute later, Karen pops back over with your drink, and asks if you would mind if she stepped away to talk to Evan. You give her a suggestive grin and shoo her away before calling out to your friends that you're playing the winner in the next game.

In a shocking twist, Foggy beat Marci in the last game. Unfortunately for you, that just meant that she was on his side, cheering him on and distracting him from the game. Matt is sitting at the table you and Karen had been occupying, and you call him over.

"Come on, Matt, I need someone to root for me too," you tell him, and he laughs as he joins you by the pool table.

The two of you chat as you play, but after the next few shots, you lose Foggy to Marci's attention. He's practically drooling over her, and you would think it's adorable if it wasn't his turn.

"Earth to Foggy," you call out, but it's no use. You'll have to wait for him to turn his attention back to the game.

"Can you believe this?" You ask Matt, shaking your head in disbelief, and he laughs at your mild distress.

You lean against the table, grabbing your drink you'd left on the edge of it.

"You know, you really pulled through for us on this case," Matt says suddenly as he leans against the table beside you.

"Thanks, Matt. It was nothing though."

"No, really, I don't think we could've pulled it off if not for those documents you found."

"I'm just happy to help," you tell him.

"And we're very happy to have you," he says with a smile.

Matt holds out his glass, and you clink yours against it before taking a sip. You glance over to where Karen is to check on her, and she seems to be having a great time. Her eyes meet yours and she gives you a big smile.

"This is nice," Matt says, drawing your attention back to him.

"Hm?"

"We haven't spent much time together like this lately."

"Well, we've been so busy with the case, it's been hard to find time outside of work. And we all know you're always busy," you say, nudging him with your elbow.

"That's true," he says with a chuckle. "So what have you been up to outside of work?"

"Oh." You weren't expecting that.

"Um, well I've been watching this show lately." You explain the plot of the show before telling him about this new hobby you have. He listens attentively with a small smile. He shows genuine interest in what you're saying, asking questions here and there. After a few minutes, you realize that you've been babbling on.

"Jeez, I'm sorry. I've been rambling."

"Don't apologize," he says, leaning a bit closer. "I like listening to your voice." You recognize his tone. It's that seemingly innocent one he has when he's trying to charm someone. Something bubbles in your chest, and for a moment, you understand why so many women fall for his flirtations.

"I bet you tell all the girls that," you say with a laugh before taking another sip your drink.

"Hey, I mean it," he says, feigning hurt before finishing off his drink.

"Sure you do," you say, voice laced with amusement.

"I do, really. I could listen to you talk all day."

"You do listen to me talk all day," you joke, earning a chuckle from him, though his pride is a bit wounded.

Trying to keep his composure, he casually snatches your drink from your hand and takes a sip.

"Do you want me to get you another drink?" You ask with a laugh.

"I thought maybe we could share." His reply is quick, smooth, and it comes with that signature smirk again.

You roll your eyes. You know Matt and how he is. This case was tough and he's probably looking to blow off some steam, which is fine, but you're not sure why he's looking to you. Being friends with your bosses/coworkers can be difficult enough. Sleeping with Matt would likely complicate both of those relationships. You wouldn't want to risk it all over a one night stand, although, once again, you can see how he manages to captivate all these women.

You play it casual. "Sure, we can share if you want."

At that, you can see the twinge of frustration in Matt's expression. His brows draw up in what looks something like confusion.

"I heard Karen say she was talking to a guy at the bar?" He asks after a moment.

"Oh yeah, she said his name is Evan."

"Nice, nice."

A moment passes. You take your drink back for another sip as your eyes dance over the small crowd to check on Karen again, who still looks like she's having a great time.

"So, are you seeing anyone new?" And you almost spit that sip straight onto the floor. Josie would probably make you clean it yourself, or it would stay there until the sticky puddle dried.

You clear your throat from nearly choking. "No, I'm not." Matt's grin returns. He fumbles with his fingers.

"Oh, no?"

"Nope. You?"

"No, not lately." he says, taking your drink back again and draining half of what's left. He lets out a sigh after. "There's someone I've been interested in for a while, and I just can't quite get over my feelings," he says.

You freeze, your heart kicking up a fuss. Matt smiles at the floor. You try to maintain your composure.

"Oh, really?" you say, trying not to sound too interested. "Who's the lucky lady? Do we all know her?"

"Yeah, you do actually." He finishes off your drink. "Can I get you another?" He asks, holding up your glass.

"Umm." You glance at your watch. It's a Friday, but you don't want to go home so late that you have to call a car.

"Just one more? To celebrate our win." He plays it cool, but there's a slight edge to his voice, almost pleading.

"By one more, do you mean one of my own or one to share?" He laughs at that.

"What's wrong with sharing," he jests with a grin, then heads to the bar before you can reply.

He returns a couple minutes later with a drink for each of you, but his smile deflates when he finds that Foggy's attention has returned to the game you were playing.

"Thanks, Matt," you say passively as you take your drink and set it on the edge of the table before lining up your next shot.

You end up pocketing two balls in one go, letting out an excited shout.

"What's happening?" Matt asks.

"She just pocketed two balls," Foggy says, exasperated.

"My last two. And now I can go for the winning shot," you tell him. He smiles.

"Nice," Matt says, trying not to seem dejected.

"The odds of you making that shot are slim to none," Foggy says. He's right. Based on the placement of his remaining balls, it's unlikely that you'll make the winning shot in this turn, but you get competitive when people doubt you.

"Wanna bet?" you say.

"On you not making the shot? Hell yeah."

"How much if I do?"

"Twenty bucks."

"You don't sound too confident," you say, goading him.

"Fine, fifty." Marci lightly smacks his arm. Honestly, you shouldn't have pushed it with how slim your chances are, but you're feeling a little lucky tonight.

"Deal."

You call your pocket before taking a moment to line up your shot. You inhale deeply, hold it a second, exhale. Shoot. The 8 ball knocks against one of Foggy's, then against the edge of the table before slowly rolling toward the pocket you called. And it's in.

"Holy shit!" Foggy yells. You're cheering for yourself and Marci joins in the excitement.

Foggy comes around to your side of the table to give you your fifty dollars. "You definitely earned it," he says with a laugh. "Wanna go again?"

"I'm good," you tell him. "That was more than enough excitement for me."

You walk over to Matt, who is standing near the table you had shared with Karen earlier.

"I take it you won?"

"I did," you say, your voice oozing with pride.

He chuckles. "Of course you did."

He holds out his glass to toast to your win, and you clink yours against his, a bit spilling on the floor.

"So, what are you gonna do with the money you won?" he asks, setting his drink down on the table.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Maybe I'll treat myself to dinner tomorrow night."

You go to step closer to the table to set your drink down, but slip on the puddle you'd left, falling forward. Matt catches you against his chest, his arms falling around your waist to steady you.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you say, removing your hands from his chest once you regain your footing, but Matt's arms don't move.

"You're finally falling for me, huh," he says with that smirk. Your heart skips a beat. Or maybe several. Actually, it feels like it might burst right out of your chest. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks growing hotter by the second.

"I– um, I–" you stammer, unsure of what to say.

"How about instead of treating yourself to dinner tomorrow night, you let me treat you."

"But what about–" you pause as the realization hits you. You were the woman he had been talking about. "Oh." You feel the tips of your ears reddening.

Matt lets out a soft chuckle at your reaction.

Now that you think about it, it's been more than a few weeks since Matt has flirted with anyone here at Josie's. Women have approached him, as usual, but he hadn't left with any of them or even accepted any of their offers to buy him a drink. He was still charming, but that's just natural with him. At the time, you attributed it to him being busy, as you all were with work. Matt had a way of really locking in on work when there was a heavy caseload, so it didn't seem unusual then. You would all just stop in at Josie's for a quick drink before heading home.

You're pulled from your thoughts by Matt tugging you a little closer to him.

"So how about it?" he asks quietly once he has your attention again. "We can go to that little Italian place you like near the office?"

Have you, at some point, considered what it might be like to be with Matt? Admittedly, yes. He's a sweetheart of a guy, always kind and courteous. He's a fierce lawyer—you're constantly impressed by his ability to captivate a jury and spin a narrative. And he and Foggy are always looking out for the little guy, taking on clients that don't have much—or anything at all, sometimes—but need help, and so they do just that. But at the end of the day, you're friends, and he's also your boss.

Your heart is in your throat.

"Um, as friends?" you ask.

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Well, I was hoping it could be a date if you're comfortable with that."

You bite your lip. "I– I just don't know if I want to risk what we already have," you admit.

"Understandable," he says, and one of his hands comes up to rest on your cheek, the other remaining firmly on your waist. "But what if we could have so much more?"

Well, the joke's on you for trying to argue with a lawyer.

"You can think of it as a trial run if you want," he offers, his hand coming down to your jaw. "If it doesn't feel right to you, we can just go back to how things were."

It might not be that simple, you think, but maybe it's worth the risk, like he said. And besides, Matt is someone you love having in your life. If things didn't work out romantically after a date or two, you're sure you could still be friends.

"A trial run, then," you say with a small nod. Matt's smirk blossoms into a smile.

"Perfect," he whispers, his hand finding it's way back up to your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. Your eyes flutter closed.

And then they're shooting back open as Foggy's voice cuts across the room.

"Look at all this love in the room tonight!" The volume of his voice makes you wince, and Marci bats at his arm, scolding him for ruining the moment. Both you and Matt burst into laughter at the pair.

You finish off your drink before getting ready to head out with the others. Karen bids Evan a good night as she readies herself to leave with the rest of you, but not before she gets his number. You link your arm through hers as you move toward the exit, asking about her night. She gives little away in the short walk to the door, but promises to catch you up at work on Monday.

"You had an eventful night too, didn't you?" she says with a grin.

"Oh yeah, I won fifty bucks off of Foggy."

"Wait, what? I was talking about with Matt. I saw the two of you over by the table," she says, nudging you playfully.

"Oh, you saw that?" You wear a bashful smile.

"Yes, and I expect to hear about that on Monday too," she says with a laugh, and you agree.

The cool night air greets you as you exit the bar, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Foggy and Marci get a cab first, calling out their "goodnights" as they get in the car. Karen calls another cab over, and she offers it to you, but you insist she takes it as she lives further than you.

And now you're left here with Matt.

"I don't see anymore taxis," you tell him. "I can call one for you if you'd like?"

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine to walk," he says, tapping his cane against the pavement. Neither of you live far from Josie's. It's about a ten minute walk from you.

"I was going to walk too," you say.

"Then, can I walk you home?" he asks.

"How about I walk you home? You're not far out of the way."

He shakes his head. "I don't want you walking alone if you can avoid it. It's late."

"Fine," you say. Then, "thank you."

He smiles at the ground before taking hold of the crook of your arm. "Of course."

The two of you walk in silence for a moment before he speaks.

"You know, I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night," he says.

A small smile makes its way onto your face. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he says. "Thank you for giving me a chance. I know you might think I'm some kind of... I don't know, playboy or something, but I'm– I'm serious about this—about you." Your cheeks burn hot at that.

"I don't think that about you," you say quietly.

"You don't?"

"No. Although, I do think you have an uncanny ability to charm pretty much any woman." He smiles again. "You're a flirt and a tease, but I wouldn't go as far as to call you a playboy." His smile falters a bit at that.

"I believe you, though," you tell him. "Admittedly, I'm a little hesitant to, but you've never given me a reason not to trust you."

"Then, I'll just have to keep proving that you can trust me."

You smile. "I'm looking forward to that."

The two of you walk together in silence for a bit.

"The moon is so bright tonight," you say as you look up at the sky.

"Is it?"

"Yeah, it is. I can see it shining through the clouds, but there are too many to see any stars."

Matt sighs. "I'd give anything to see that one more time." Your heart constricts at that.

"I– I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says. "I like that you describe things like that to me. You do it more often than you might think. It feels like you want to share it with me, and I enjoy hearing how things look through your eyes. I remember what it was like, you know, seeing the night sky, all the stars up there—or at least what we could see from the city. When you tell me about it, it helps me keep those memories alive." You tear up just a little bit, smiling sadly.

"I'm glad I could do that for you."

A few moments pass, and you come up to your apartment building.

"This is me," you say with a sniffle, coming to a stop.

Matt turns to face you, bringing his hand up to cup your face once again.

"I take it back," he says softly.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"I take it back," he says again, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "As much as I wish I could see the sky again, I'd do anything to see you just once."

"Oh, Matt," you breathe, and a tear slips free. He brushes it away as he closes the gap between you, pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips. And then he's pulling away, but your hand comes up to gently tug him back by his tie. His hands find their place on your hips as you pull him into another kiss, this one a bit deeper. One of his hands comes up to rest at the nape of your neck, and his glasses bump against your nose as he angles his head. The two of you break apart in a laugh, and his hand comes down to take hold of yours.

"I wasn't planning on kissing you tonight, just so you know."

"Oh, no?"

He shakes his head, a small grin on his face. "Nope."

"Well, I guess you can just try not to kiss me tomorrow night," you say with a small smirk.

"Oh, I don't think so," he says, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he leans in to press one last kiss to your lips.

"Until tomorrow," he says once he pulls away.

"Goodnight, Matt," you say as you take a step towards the stairs to your building.

"Goodnight" he says, finally releasing your hand.

He waits until he hears you get safely inside your apartment to start his walk to his own, a smile on his face the entire way home.

You're practically giddy as you ready yourself for bed. There's a good chance you won't be getting much sleep tonight, not with the anticipation of tomorrow night lingering.

Matt feels it too. Despite the late hour, he's wide awake, his heart thumping wildly as he recounts the past hour or so. As he lies in bed, he can't help but miss the way you felt in his arms, like the piece he didn't realize he was missing. Some would say it's too soon to tell, but to him, you already felt like home.

Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

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[bambisnc]

      𝖮𝖮𝖯𝖲 !   % luggage mix-ups&cute strangers

            ST✮RRING───𝗡.𝓡𝗞 ୨୧ 2566 && 𝐖. crackfic wigs implied frozen 1 slander jake + jungwon mentioned lilo&stitch mentioned sunghoon & minju appearance as airport staff reader wears glasses + likes sanrio

ㅤ𝖤𝑋𝖳𝖱𝖠 ㅤ ( > ㅅ < ) ㅤ i really went ALL out for this >< my longest drabble yet! thank you to mana for emotional support during my many crashouts, and shoutout tewww juni, koi, lilly for listening to me yap about my idea and mi + ai for semi proofreading ! i love ygs big time MWAH

                  check out my other account ! 𝖢𝘓𝗂𝖢𝖪     ᰈ̠ 𝖭𝘈𝖵𝗂

after getting off of a terribly long and otherwise unpleasant flight, all you really want is to grab your luggage, find a cab back home and face-plant into your comfy, cosy bed. and then stay there for a minimum of 15 hours.

it was the only thing keeping you going, really.

but of course, the universe has other plans for you. 

you should’ve caught on to that, from how suspicious it was that as soon as you reached baggage claim … by some stroke of luck, you spotted your suitcase immediately. 

oh, joy! for once, you wouldn’t have to stand like an idiot for an odd 25 minutes, watching various pieces of luggage roll out on the conveyor belt, moving so slowly that it was almost mocking. 

with a quick internal cheer, you’d rushed to grab the handle of the bag. 

… only for another hand to also be picking the same suitcase up?

oh! you get it. the stranger who you’ve now appraised with a quick glance (really tall, sharp features and nice hair) is just helping you out!

maybe there is good in the world, after all!

you flash him a quick smile, ready to thank him for being so nice, but really, you can handle the suitcase on your own,—before a scowl takes over his pretty features. 

okay. rude. 

hot people should not be allowed to look that annoyed and still be attractive. 

“i’d really appreciate it if you’d stop trying to steal my luggage,” he tells you, the words forced out through grit teeth. 

you find yourself sympathizing with him for a minute, the slight bags under his eyes quite telling of a rough flight.

but no. you’ve had a difficult flight too.

you’ve had to listen to a toddler whine about why frozen 2 is better than the first one for the greater part of 3 hours (who honestly did have some good points, if you really think about it). 

you’ve had to deal with some stupid 13 year old who kept reclining his seat farther and farther back (and after you politely told her to stop, she stuck her tongue out at you. the audacity.) 

and the worst of all. 

the guy seated next to you kept trying to get you to invest in his potential cult / pyramid marketing scheme for yak fur wigs. 

you kept telling him you were broke but you’re quite sure he didn’t even listen to one word you said. especially because when your flight landed he handed you a business card, which was just as sketchy as his description of his business that was about to “take the world by a storm.”

so, no. fuck being nice. you simply do not have the energy for that right now. 

“right,” you say, in a voice equally as strained, “that’s funny, because this happens to be mine. maybe try actually, oh, i don’t know, looking at it before you accuse me of “stealing” my own luggage.”

at that, the man’s scowl deepens. he tugs the suitcase towards him once, the movement sharp, and you almost fall right into his chest. but you manage to stop yourself right in time. 

all those tiktok balancing exercises—which you did only out of peer pressure from creators who insisted that if you scrolled away without dropping a follow and stretching your limbs as they were doing in the video, it would be nothing short of catastrophic—must be finally coming into use. 

“my vision is completely fine. 20/20, in fact.” he says smugly, with obvious disdain towards your own glasses. 

how dare he hold your bad eyesight against you like that. 

this means war. 

“clearly it’s not,” you slide the suitcase back towards your own figure. “because this is mine. good luck finding your own though! may i suggest paying ‘Lost & Found’ a quick visit?”

mr. stranger scoffs at that. loudly. “you can’t really think MY suitcase is yours.”

“well, yes, unless this is actually opposite world wherein your suitcase ALSO has a huge dent at the bottom from where it hit the edge of MY dressing table 5 days ago.”

“you have got to be kidding me.” he sighs, looking tired. the AUDACITY. “i know that dent. that dent is there because jungwon dropped the bag out of my balcony last month, and it slammed right into jake’s remote controlled drone.”

“a drone. really.”

“it’s … a long story.”

“i’m sure it is. i fully believe that happened.” you earnestly say, nodding along with your own words, “jake and jungwon are totally real people and you definitely put a lot of thought into that lie.”

“they are real people, dammit. and i’m not lying.” 

you blink up, the picture of innocence. “but y’sound awfully defensive for someone who’s so sure he’s right …”

that does it. his jaw tightens. “okay listen here, you—” mr.stranger’s face has flushed an angry cherry shade by now, and you have to bite back laughter at the image. 

but thankfully, right before the situation can elevate to a physical comic book-esque fight over the suitcase in question, a third party finally interrupts. 

what looks to be a rather, harassed looking airport assistance staff member appears in front of you with a bright, if slightly worried exclamation, “sir! madam!’ 

her voice is breathless, slightly shaky with effort, “we’ve been getting constant complaints from the elderly lady over there–she, um, says you’ve been blocking the conveyor belt.” 

you glance behind. and sure enough, a crowd of mildly entertained but mostly frustrated passengers stares back. 

“i believe the two of you have something to work out regarding that suitcase?” the assistant prods gently, “i could direct you towards the airport authorities, if you’d like?”

“there’s no dispute here!” you pipe up, confidently. “i’ll just be on my way with my suitcase, thank you though!” 

you turn around ready to leave, hoping mr.stranger (you should maybe consider asking for his name, at some point) has forgotten about thinking your suitcase was his. 

you almost walk away. almost. but right then, his hand grips onto your wrist, effectively stopping you. 

“just a minute, doll.” his tone is lowered in what you assume is annoyance in a way that, embarrassingly, sends a shiver down your spine, “there’s just one small problem. that suitcase is still very much mine.”

“fuck off, you very well know this isn’t yours?!”

the assistant raises her hands placatingly, “alright, alright—let’s all calm down here. i really suggest going to the .. baggage authorities.” her tone clearly emphasizes that it wasn’t a “suggestion” at all.

you and mr.stranger, suddenly feeling slightly conscious, exchange a glance and unanimously decide to comply. 

soon enough, you’re taken into the office by her and presented to a uniformed man behind the counter. 

he takes one look at you and mr. stranger, gaze squinted in silent scrutiny. the practiced customer smile that he directs towards you soon after is only slightly forced.

“another 320LMAO, is it minju?,” he asks the assistant, tone dry and oozing of boredom. “not one day goes by without one of these. i’m getting too old for this shit.”

“you’re 22, sunghoon.”

“i meant metaphorically. obviously. get with the times, minju.”

“do your job, sunghoon.”

sunghoon grumbles at that. he takes an additional 10 whole minutes to stare at you and mr.stranger, respectively, before wordlessly beckoning for the suitcase. 

mr.stranger obliges, sliding it towards him with a weirdly unnecessary flair. 

“as much as i’d hate to interrupt the .. uh,  proceedings” he begins, “... what exactly is a 320LMAO?”

minju the assistant sighs and mutters something under her breath which sounds a suspicious amount like here we go again. completely contrasting her demeanour, sunghoon’s face lights up like he’s been waiting years for someone to ask.

“it’s code, actually! lingo for the cool, hip airport guys, if you will—Luggage Misidentified Again Ohmygod. LMAO. and the 320 is there because minju said it’d sound more official like that.” 

minju looks like she’d rather be anywhere else at the moment and flusters around for a second or two before gesturing something towards her phone and all but booking it out of the room.

so, basically, you and YOUR suitcase are totally in good hands. 

“... and so, finally, after 6 days and 23 whole hours we were able to find that battered, orange warrior of a suitcase.” .. sunghoon’s still talking, rather passionately now, about what you’re assuming are the origins of 320LMAO, “and ever since that day, this beloved code has been put in place. thinking about the story gives me chills. literal chills.”

when will this be over? you just want to go home, for god’s sake. with a sideways glance towards mr.stranger, you catch a glimpse of his incredulous expression at sunghoon’s story and let slip a giggle. 

he turns to look at you upon hearing your little laugh, and his own tensed features finally give way to a slight smirk. you almost let bygones be bygones due to the sheer reason that he looks … really pretty now that you’re really looking at him. 

you can always get a new suitcase, yeah? might as well let him have this one!

“you’re not even listening.” is sunghoon the official … pouting at you and mr.stranger? “oh. i get it. too busy having your little romcom moment to listen to the greatest story of all time.” 

a sound not unlike a strangled half-choke, half-cough leaves mr. stranger, “excuse me? we’re really not—”

“whatever. you wouldn’t it get it, anyway. let’s get this over with.” the official crouches down huffily, unzips the suitcase and flips the lid open in a way that only reveals the contents to himself. “woah.”

???

“i need each of you to state some things you had packed in your luggage.” he says, eyes flashing with a hint of amusement. 

your my melody makeup bag. a blue cinnamoroll themed polaroid camera. one kuromi plushie. you oblige this information with zero hesitation. you’re proud of your sanrio obsession. who could even say one singular bad thing about something so whimsical and cute and joy-giving?

sunghoon nods slowly. 

mr.stranger says he has a chrome hearts hoodie, a new pair of headphones and .. one kuromi plushie. for his younger sister. interesting.

sunghoon nods, facial expression betraying nothing. he’d be really good at poker, you find yourself thinking, right as he clears his throat and makes his verdict, “... well. i don’t even know what to say. you guys can just .. have a look inside, i guess.”

very professional.

however, you both lean in as soon as he words out the sentence, eager to finally, finally put an end to this.

there’s a pause. all you can really do is stare.

“... what the hell?” mr.stranger mumbles, tone so unbelieving and full of wonder it elicits a snort from sunghoon.

you blink. once, twice. 

the shock of plain, mousy brown that greets you from the inside stares back resolutely. 

the suitcase appears to be full of … wigs? 

you really hope they are wigs.

sunghoon uses one gloved finger to daintily edge away a few of the .. wigs .. present at the surface to reveal … 

… what looks to be a gorgeously painted porcelain sink (yes like the one where you do the washing), exactly 2 and a half bowling pins (one of them being somehow broken vertically) and a metal case. 

which on further investigation turns out to be filled with miniature replicas of medieval weaponry. 

oh, and, one life sized victorian era accurate crown. 

“so?” the official prods, “whose is it, then?”

“that … is definitely not mine.” you immediately say, only for mr.stranger to exclaim in a way that overlaps with yours completely.

“uh. yeah, no, same.” he adds, stepping back like the suitcase might be infectious.

the deadpan expression on sunghoon’s face says everything he’s probably too polite to actually voice out. but thankfully, minju—your life saving grace, an angel from the heavens,your .. knight in shining armor, even—peeks into the room right at the moment.

“sunghoon. emergency. a child has climbed on top of the “lilo & stitch” display and won’t get down. he says frozen 2 is the superior movie and demands to meet olaf.”

“againnn?” said man whines, “i’m so over this shit, ugh.” but after a quick little tantrum he does eventually leave the room, grumbling out a short “don’t touch anything” to you and mr.stranger.

obviously, you and mr.stranger unanimously decide to touch everything.

in the suitcase, that is.

aside from the wigs. obviously.

“hey, mr.stranger guy—”

“??? it’s nishimura riki.”

“that, yes. this crown looks like it’d be the perfect size for you. that’s suspicious. are you sure the suitcase isn’t yours?”

riki squints at you, then looks disdainfully down at the crown in your hands. “…not my style. and more importantly, i wouldn’t be caught dead with those … wigs … ever. my hair is very natural, thank you very much.”

you burst out laughing at that; maybe the hours of travelling induced sleep deprivation is finally catching up to you. riki rolls his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching upwards at your reaction.

both of you sink down to the floor in front of the open bag, knees just about brushing. 

“what’s their story, do you think? whoever this suitcase belongs to.” you wonder aloud, after a beat. 

“hm. i’d say they were a member of royalty with a deep love for waffles, bowling and plumbing. and a family history of male pattern baldness. just a guess.”

 “or,” you begin solemnly, “someone pulling a medieval-themed heist … against a bowling league. the waffles were a heist snack and the sink was a spoil of the battle. a sign of our guy’s victory, if you will.”

riki nods in agreement, not even trying to hide his smile anymore, and it’s a little too successful in disarming you for someone who called you a thief merely minutes ago. “that makes perfect sense.”

you find yourself grinning back despite yourself. “come to think of it … this one guy on the plane was trying to recruit me as an investor in his yak wig business …”

exactly on cue, the office door creaks open by some divine intervention and you see outside the following events happen in rapid succession : 

sunghoon, attempting to wrestle off a child who is resolutely clinging onto a “Stitch” from “Lilo & Stitch” cardboard cutout while simultaneously trying to reason with a man (is that mr.yak wig business seller himself?) and assure him that the airport staff are doing everything they can to find his precious suitcase.

and then telling him that no, sunghoon will not be investing in his business because frankly, it sounds like a pyramid scheme.

neither you nor nishimura riki think to put an end to the sheer chaos outside by simply telling the yak wig business man that his suitcase is, in fact, right here.

because, honestly, you couldn't care less about the suitcase anymore. let the airport staff figure that one out themselves.

you’re a bit too caught up having your little romcom moment with riki, after all. oops.

but hey, at least you’ll have a good laugh about all this at the coffee date he’s just asked you to tomorrow! ^-^

𐙚 . regulars : @chrrific @jessxxxfwd @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @weedatthegasstattion @flipitkickit @douqhnxtss @soona-huh @amoressb @nicholasluvbot @manariee @rinrinninnin @ddeonuswife @douqhnxtss @lovenha7 @amatariki @i-am-not-dal @liyahhhh620 @elleetlalune @eunwonji @s0shroe @wensurr @unhakies @starniras @calabaeri @athenaisonlinee @weepingsweep @itsactuallylina ⋆

[ 𝑓𝗋𝑜𝗆 陰 ] : my longest drabble yet .. possibly my longest piece of writing in general ... my magnum opus, my baby, my child. i live love laugh this drabble. hi.

ㅤㅤㅤ© BAMBiSNC ♡ 2025

[mattsangelbaby]

SCARED OF MY GUITAR — m. sturniolo

in which … you and matt start to lose the spark but what happens when you pretend everything’s fine?

angst !! arguing, crying, little fluff, some toxic behavior, use of pet names, unresolved angst

1.4k words

“ perfect, easy, so good to me. “

you and matt have the ideal relationship. everything someone could want in a relationship, you guys have it. he is nothing but the sweetest, kindest, most perfect guy you’ve ever had. it’s been a great eight months— nothing short but amazing. there was weekly dates, weekly flowers, mini- vacations, late night talks, and so much more. nothing makes you more happier than matt, and being with matt.

your currently cuddled up on his couch, your head resting on his chest— while his arms are wrapped loosely around your waist and his cheek on top of your head. you nuzzle your face into his neck, your warm breath hitting him.

“i missed you,” you whisper— your soft voice putting a smile onto his face. his hands trace small patterns onto your back, as he kisses the top of your head.

“missed you more, baby,” matt mumbles, pulling you closer into him. you let out a sigh as this was nothing less than perfect, but why doesn’t it feel right?

“ so why’s there a pit in my gut— in the shape of you? “

the past few weeks have been— odd. you and matt have been spending less time together, being more “busy” as you guys like to say. less texts, less phone calls, less flowers, less everything. things were going so good, but what happened? maybe it’s just a tiny rough patch all couples go through it, right?

your currently curled up in your bed, tv on, watching a show as you get a phone call— matt. you immediately pick up, so excited that you finally get to talk to him for the first time this week.

“hi sweetheart,” matt’s low voice comes through the phone— almost sounding tired. “hi matt, i’ve missed you.”

he just hums in acknowledgement, giving no “i miss you” back. you notice this— your face falling slightly trying not to overthink it to much. maybe he’s just having a rough day? yeah, until every phone call after that only gets worse. there’s less and less, more quick, and couldn’t sound more uninterested. this is normal, right?

“ maybe i’m just overwhelmed, maybe i’m confused. “

as weeks past, it only goes downhill. you haven’t seen matt in almost 4 weeks, haven’t talked to him on the phone in about a week, and texts only last about 5 minutes. maybe he’s just stressed? maybe he’s just busy? or maybe your just overwhelmed? this happens— it’s normal, you keep telling yourself.

for the first time in almost a month, matt finally comes over. you’ve been looking forward to this moment for awhile, you’ve missed his touch, his love, you’ve missed him. but as the both of you are on the couch, watching a movie, things couldn’t be more different. there’s a gap between you both, no one touching each other, little words actually spoken— it’s fine, it’s okay.

you slowly move your hand over to matt’s, laying it on top of his before he yanks his hand away. you look up at him with glassy eyes— desperately trying to keep the tears in. “what’s wrong?” you mumble in a shaky tone, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

of course he notices but not a word comes out of his mouth about it. maybe he’s just doesn’t care.“m’fine.” matt states firmly, not a hint of emotion evident in his voice. no love, no care, just— nothing. but you’ll pretend it’s fine. like you always have.

“ but i keep thinkin’ i’ll find a cure. “

the sounds of screaming voices and tension fill the kitchen air. matt has been getting mad at you lately for the tiniest things, and it’s been draining. it’s almost like you can’t take a step forward without him pushing you back. you keep trying to figure out if there’s something you can do to fix this— something to make it better. but what can you do?

“i dont understand what’s going on with you,” you shout, your voice a bit wobbly. matt leans against the stove— arms crossed around his chest. “nothing’s going on w’me. your being dramatic.

you scoff— trying to keep a tough exterior knowing this is breaking you on the inside. where’s the matt that used to love you? where’s the matt you used to know?

“me being dramatic? matt, you barley spend any time with me anymore. something’s up.” matt slightly rolls his eyes, clearly fed up with you.

“god, you’re so annoying sometimes. leave me alone, kid.” tears brim at your eyelids, threatening to fall over as matt leaves the kitchen walking into your bedroom.

when did he get so mean?

“ say that i’m fine, i tell you all the time— that i’ve never felt so happy and sure. “

you know that nothing can fix you and matt. nothing you do, nothing he does will ever fix the spark between you too. the light is slowly dying out. but what do you do when the person means everything? pretend it’s fine, that you’ve never felt happier.

putting on an act is easier then listening to your own feelings— dealing with them. matt is your savior, the light in your life, the person you’ve only ever seen a future with. you know you don’t deserve to get treated like this, to feel unhappy. but is this all truly happenening, or is it all in your head? maybe your so deep in your act that you don’t even realize anymore that it’s an act.

maybe this is all you’ll ever need.

“ but i’m so scared of my guitar, ‘cause it cuts right through to the heart. “

as time goes on, it gets harder and harder. why does the thought alone of matt make you feel so sad? when the two of you are actually together, it feels like there’s a whole ocean between you two. is swimming across that ocean worth it anymore? or will you get to the other side and see only a small island with nothing to give.

what are you supposed to do? talking to someone feels pointless. how are they supposed to change his heart and make it follow you— how? the words “i love you” feel nothing short but a lie. how could the one man you loved with everything in you, make those words not feel true anymore? he acted like you weren’t even his girlfriend, nothing but an afterthought in his mind. how could he do this? how could you keep fighting for something that he wasn’t fighting for— fight for a battle you were losing?

“ i can’t lie to it the same way that i lie to you. “

lying seemed to become more of a regular thing. around matt, you seemed happy— joyful. almost like you were so innocent that you couldn’t see what was happening right in front of you. everytime someone asked about you and matt the words, “amazing”, “perfect”, “great!” were things that left your mouth, when they couldn’t be farther from the truth.

when you would go out shopping with matt, you would notice his eyes drift to the other girls— his eyes trailing down over there bodies, taking in every little feature. and so you pretended you didn’t feel something stab you on the inside everytime, you just pretended. if you lie— it hides the fact that everyday you and matt are slowly falling out of love. slowly and slowly.

“ so i’ll lay in your arms and pretend that it’s love. “

days, weeks, months past as you felt even more deatched from your relationship. how much more pretending could you keep doing? maybe if matt noticed you were fading away, he’d do something. but he never did. loving him felt like a chore, something you didn’t want to keep doing. long and restless nights were becoming normal— the thoughts overbearing. you felt yourself grieving over something that wasn’t dead yet. but to you, the fire had burned out a long time ago. the matches giving up.

nobody asked questions, because nobody knew. how were they supposed to know? you find yourself thinking about the late nights he would hold you in his arms, the nights where you would watch the stars, where you felt like the most special person.

the crushing reality slowly dawns on you over time— the sickining feeling in your gut weighing you down. what if you never find anything better? how could you trade something that’s good for what’s right? matt was the person for you, matt showed you something that no one else ever has, and maybe you’ll feel this way forever— the feeling of giving something even if you have nothing left to give. things will get better and things will be okay, knowing that the spark left a long time ago, but you can’t give up something that makes you so happy. that did make you so happy.

so you’ll lay in his arms and pretend it’s enough.

© mattsangelbaby

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ·˚ ༘ ꒱ i hope you all enjoyed this little onshot !! i’m not good at writing angst but this idea popped into my mind and i just had to do it! i’m hoping to start writing for my au so send in requests and please ask questions about them!!

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 6

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

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

-----

Steve keeps dropping his heart.

Somewhere buried deep inside him there's an edge of terror that he's going to damage it even worse - but it also makes a muffled schloop sound every time it hits the ground that is, objectively, the funniest sound he's heard all night.

Robin thinks so too, because she keeps giggling every time it happens - first these tiny little snorts, then somewhat hysterical giggles, then a full on bark of laughter, and then he's dropping it again because he's laughing, too, and she's so cute, how is he supposed to not be a little in love with her?

Dustin and Erica don't seem to find it that funny, though.

"Oh my God, Steve, put your heart in your chest!" Dustin hisses at him the next time they have to slow down to wait for him to scoop it back up.

The very idea sends a chill through him, and he makes a face at Dustin.

"No!" he retorts.

"No? Are you serious? It took me weeks to get you comfortable taking it out around me and now you want to wave it around? No, that's not what I - stop that," Dustin scolds him.

Which is rude, considering Dustin is the one who told him to wave it around in the first place.

But maybe he also has a point, because Steve's grip on his heart slips on a downward wave and this time he doesn't so much drop it as toss it, sending it skittering over the floor.

"Oops," Steve says.

Robin bursts into a sharp bray of laughter.

He loves her so much.

Dustin's gone chasing after his heart, and he flinches when the kid picks it up, expecting it to hurt, to feel wrong the way it had when -

But no.

It feels nice.

"Huh," Steve says, watching Dustin bring it back over.

"Why is it all wrapped up?" Erica asks, wrinkling her nose at it.

"So it doesn't explode," Steve replies, then giggles when Robin nods solemnly and mimes an explosion with her hands.

Dustin rolls his eyes, trying to shove it at him. "Put it away!"

Steve twists away. "Nooo," he protests. "I can't breathe."

Dustin's expression goes from frustrated to concerned so quickly it gives Steve whiplash. "Your ribs? Did they break something? Shit, Erica, can you-"

Erica's already at Steve's side, tugging up his uniform shirt and squinting at his ribs. "What am I supposed to be looking for?"

"Can't breathe with my heart inside," Steve clarifies, even though he's actually pretty sure he does have a broken rib or two. It doesn't hurt, so it's a way lower priority. "I hate it, it feels like it's trapped and hollow and alone."

Dustin and Erica look at each other. Steve doesn't think they look irritated, but he can't really tell.

"Steve," Dustin says softly. "Since when?"

"Since always," Steve replies.

There's silence in response, and he worries briefly that he's said the wrong thing. But then Dustin sighs and pops open his chest, nudging his own heart aside so he can drop Steve's next to it. He closes it up again before Steve's even managed to get a fully formed thought, let alone words, and -

His heart gives a little stutter, and it's weird to feel the emotion that causes it without feeling the corresponding pounding against his own chest.

Dustin apparently feels it, though, because he squints at Steve. “What was that?��

“What was what?” Steve returns.

“You felt something!” Dustin retorts.

“Wait, you can feel what I'm feeling?” Steve demands.

“Of course I can,” Dustin scoffs, like it should be obvious. “I have your heart, don't I?”

He looks over at Robin, to see if she knew that, too, but she's too busy snickering at something the light is doing in the fountain, and -

Oh.

Wow.

Okay, that's much better.

He feels so much better, and even when he's handed his heart again after he and Robin are deposited in the movie theater -

The feeling lingers.

—

In a too bright bathroom that smells like bleach and vomit, Robin holds out her hands for his heart.

“Let me see,” she insists, and Steve doesn't think twice about handing it over.

She might as well have just put her own heart in his hands, after what she just shared with him.

Still, he feels trepidation when she unwraps it, even more when she blanches at the sight of it. But -

“Hey,” Steve says, leaning in to look more closely at it. “It looks better.”

“Better?” she demands. “This is better?”

“I guess I should put it back in my chest if it makes it better,” he says reluctantly.

Robin frowns. “But it hasn't been in your chest. Just Dustin's.”

Wait.

That's right.

“I learned about this!” Steve snaps his fingers, trying to place it. “Science class. People survive things they shouldn't if they give away their hearts?”

Robin, bless her, either remembers it better or has figured out what he's trying to say. “Your heart heals better if someone's keeping it safe for you?”

There's barely a second before she's opening her own chest, taking out her heart and putting his in instead.

“Here,” she says, handing her heart to him almost carelessly. “Watch this for me.”

The moment it's settled in his chest, though, he can feel - how scared she is, how terrifying this all seems. The edges of it are still dulled by the drugs in both their systems, but it's there.

“I'm sorry,” he tells her quietly, guilt twisting from him to his heart in her chest.

“I'm not,” she replies, sharp and stubborn.

And the thing is -

She isn't.

—

The paramedics don't insist on keeping him.

Steve thinks they might, if they could hear his own heart, but it's Robin's heart beating strong and steady in his chest, so they assume that no matter how bad he looks, he must not be in any danger.

He doesn't know what his heart sounds like, but judging by the look on the guy checking over Robin - it's not good.

But she's physically unharmed, so they must assume it's more emotional damage than anything else. He and Robin are two halves, right now, but put them together and they make a somewhat stable whole.

God, he loves her.

She must pick up the echo of his love, because she looks up, meeting his gaze. Her smile is a little sad, and he feels a rush of affection so strong that it almost takes his breath away, even if it's a little bittersweet.

"It's not like that," he tells her, as soon as she and him can huddle together away from the paramedics.

She frowns at him, a clear prompt to continue.

"I don't know if I know how to love someone this much, if it's not like that," he admits. "But I'm learning. I'm going to learn."

For Robin, he'll learn how to love someone so much he doesn't want to know what life is like without them, in a way that isn't romantic at all.

—

Robin comes home with him that night, their hearts still in each other's chests.

Steve almost can't bear the thought of taking his back at this point, and what he can pick up from Robin tells him she feels the same way.

There's a blinking light on the answering machine, and when he presses play, he smiles a little at hearing Eddie's voice.

“Hey, Steve, it's, uh, Eddie. Know I haven't stopped by in a while, but I saw the news tonight about the mall, and - can you just let me know you're okay? Okay. Yeah, okay, bye.”

He sounds a little like he's trying not to panic, and Steve feels himself go soft and fond.

“...huh,” Robin says, clearly getting an echo of what he's feeling. “Steve?”

Steve shrugs, a little helpless. “I don't know,” he admits.

She considers for a moment. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks.

“You don't have to know,” she tells him.

“Okay,” he agrees.

He calls Eddie back while she showers, propped up against the bathroom door with the cordless phone in his hand.

“Hey,” Steve says when Eddie picks up. “It's Steve. Sorry, I know it's late.”

“No!” Eddie rushes to say. “No, it's okay, I was up. I saw - are you okay?”

“I've been better,” Steve admits. “There was some explosions, some rubble from the building collapsing. I've got cracked ribs and a concussion.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters. “If you could stop getting beat up, it would really give my heart a break.”

Steve grins a little. “You worried about me? Thought it was my job to look out for you.”

He can't see him, but he's pretty sure Eddie's rolling his eyes. “Yeah, and who looks out for you, huh, asshole?”

Steve hums. “It's good to hear your voice. I missed you.”

Eddie's quiet for a moment. Then, “Do you want - do you need someone to come keep an eye on you, make sure you wake up every hour?”

He kind of wishes Eddie'd finished what he started to say, because yeah, he does want him, but that's not the question Eddie ended up asking.

“Robin's here,” Steve says. “She was caught in it, too, but she didn't get too injured. She's going to stay over tonight.”

There's a moment of silence.

“Right, of course,” Eddie mutters.

“Can you come over tomorrow?” Steve finds himself asking without really thinking about it. Eddie's never been over - he's technically never hung out with Eddie outside of school or work - but shit, he wants it. “I think the drugs'll be out of my system by then, so I won't be too annoying. You can meet Robin.”

“You do know I've met her, right?”

Steve makes a tsk noise. “You've met Robin from band, just like she's met Eddie from the lunch tables. But you don't really know each other, not like I-”

He cuts off, because he's not really sure he has the right to say that. Does he really know either of them like that?

Whatever. If he doesn't, he wants to.

“You do better as part of a trio, huh?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Well, yeah,” Steve agrees. “But this is different, this is better.”

Eddie snorts. “Sure, you're not the third wheel anymore.”

“It's not that,” Steve protests. It feels important for him to get this right, though he's not sure why. “I don’t care about being a third wheel, it never bothered me. But Tommy and Carol… there were always conditions, with their friendship. The older we got, the more there were. And I love Nancy and Jonathan-”

His heart spasms. He can't feel it, but he feels the emotions, and Robin's heartbeat in his own chest kicks up. He mutes the phone, for a moment, knocks on the bathroom door. “I’m okay!” he calls through it, feels a wave of relief coming from her, and lets himself feel simple, uncomplicated affection.

“But things are complicated with them,” he continues after he unmutes the phone. “I think they always will be.”

“And what, I'm uncomplicated?” Eddie asks, but he sounds more amused than anything else.

“You're something,” Steve agrees, not bothering to try not to sound warm and fond.

Eddie blows out a puff of air. “I have band practice tomorrow,” he says. “But I'll call you sometime later, okay?”

No, that doesn't sound okay.

“Is this one of those things where you're not really asking me if it's okay, you're just saying it so it sounds better?” Steve asks. “What would you do if I said it wasn't okay? If I said I really wanted you to come over?”

Eddie's quiet again. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Yes,” Steve replies immediately, because he's had it saved up since Eddie didn't finish asking him it in the first place.

If his heart were in his own chest, he's pretty sure it would be thumping in anticipation.

“Not tonight,” Eddie says finally. “But I do want to be friends with you, okay? I'll call you.”

He hangs up after that, and Steve stares at the phone until Robin comes out of the bathroom and finds him like that.

She doesn't have to ask what happened - probably because she felt what happened - she just sits next to him a while.

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

-----

Part 7

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @cryptid-system @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @persnicketysquares @samsoble @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse @breealtair @shunna @xtraordinarally

[hufflezki]

summary: james is, and will always be, the light of the group. but who's the one to lift him up when it's him feeling down?

-> james potter x gn!reader, fluff, established relationship, james is a very appreciative boy, reader is james' comfort person, teeth-rotting-sickenly-sweet couple things, word count: 893

James’ bed is comfy as you lay down and bury yourselves underneath his fluffy blanket. All while you can hear the faint sounds coming from the party downstairs, in the common room. Earlier, this afternoon, James rushed to you with no explanation whatsoever. He just went straight to your arms, after you barely stepped foot in the Grand Hall. And now here you are, massaging his scalp as he lays his head on your chest. You’re almost convinced he’s asleep, if it isn't for him tapping you on the arm when you stop.

Your other friends are downstairs, probably enjoying the party, and James would normally be there as well. But he felt really off today, he said. He woke up early—just like any other day—but had to drag himself out of bed. Which was quite unusual since he had always been a morning person. But then his body just didn't feel right, every muscle just felt heavy. He wasn't in pain, he was just exhausted.

James got through his morning schedule, but that was until lunch came, and he really couldn't deal with it anymore and had to see you immediately.

You could say it's an automatic response between the both of you. That whenever someone feels tired they would always find rest within the other one’s presence. And, currently, James really needs yours.

“I think I’m just overwhelmed..” James mumbles, his face against your collarbone. You can feel his heart beating in sync with yours, and it makes this moment a little more intimate. “Well, you have been juggling your responsibilities.” You say, averting your gaze down at him. Your boyfriend indeed has become busy ever since he became the head boy. And it's impressive how well he’s dealing with so much on his plate, especially when he’s also the captain of the Quidditch team. But you wouldn't discredit him for becoming overwhelmed. At the end of the day, he’s also just human.

“I shouldn't be so down, huh? I mean other people have it bad too.” You let out a hum, moving your hand down on his back, and he melts into your touch. You’ve told him plenty of times before, that just because he was given these responsibilities, doesn't mean that he should prioritize himself last. He’s just as important as keeping the students in line, or winning the Quidditch cup. “James, I don't think that’s how it works. No matter what it is, you shouldn't invalidate yourself. And you’re burnt out, you should allow yourself to rest. Do you understand?” James nods his head, a small smile gracing his features.

“What would make you feel better? Do you want to talk about it some more?” He shakes his head, pressing his palms flat on the mattress beside you, and lifting himself up. You tilt your head to the side, watching him manoeuvre his body, so he’s face to face with you. “I’m already starting to feel better, angel.” You smile, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulls you in a kiss. Your whole body flushes, your cheeks warm as you kiss James back. And it's sweet, even passionate, maybe because of how emotional the both of you feel right now.

His other hand travels down from your arm and down to your waist, pulling you closer to him, before he pulls away from the kiss.

“Don't tell Sirius, but I’m sort of glad I ditched the party.”

“James.” You laugh, breathless, and he smiles while admiring you. He thinks you’re the prettiest like this. Still a little flushed from kissing, all soft and endearing, it makes all his bad days more worthwhile. He misses you already, even though you're still here.

“I don't say this a lot, but I’m grateful that you’re always here for me.”

“You do say that a lot, Jamie.”

“Oh, well, then I won't get tired of telling you how grateful I am for always being there for me.” You're by the stairs now, just near the Gryffindor common room, after the both of you got bored and decided to sneak out. You couldn't get far though, initially headed for the kitchen, as Flinch is currently doing his rounds near the area. And you can't really risk detention.

“Alright, lover boy, you can thank me all you want.” You can tell he was slowly coming back to his usual self. The random compliments, getting overly affectionate and emotional—although he’s been unable to keep his hands off of you since earlier—and, of course, being all smiley.

“Thank you, really, I mean it.” He rests his head on your shoulder, as if he couldn't be much closer to you. You don't even have to look to know that he’s currently staring at you with doting eyes. Though, to be fair, you do look at him the same way. “If it wasn't for you, I don't think I'd be able to have time for myself.” And it's the truth. You make his miserable days much better.

“I think that was more of a collaborative work between us.” James watches you place a kiss on his forehead. “But you’re always welcome.”

Moments like this reminds James just how important you are in his life. And if it's his lifelong fulfilment to appreciate you for everything, then consider it will be done.

marauders era masterlist ꩜ .ᐟ

[anzulvr]

can you do a karma x reader but Korosensei just follows them around or he embarrasses Karma 🎀

Karma x Reader, where Korosensei embarrasses you both. Sorry for late replies as always & THANKS ALOT FOR REQUESTING THIS!! TELL ME IF U SEE TYPOS!!

— Korosensei has a lot of spare time on his hands tentacles. He can complete tasks that would take a regular person hours in a matter of seconds.

Which is why he often shoves his nose in other people’s business. He needs some way to keep himself entertained!

Unfortunately for him no matter how much he tries to set his students up together, none of them seem to make a move on their own accord!

Korosensei is 90% of the reason you and Karma are together.

You were too nervous to be honest about your feelings, confessing was out of the question.

Karma, he considered asking you out a few times but being inexperienced with romance (or any sort of affection ranging from friendships to his family life) , he didn’t know how to go about springing his emotions on you.

He planned it out himself a few times; ‘What am I supposed to do after I confess? High-five? Maybe a hug, nah I’m not a hug person.’

Karmas love language is mentally draining the people he likes, which is why he’s not the type to prepare huge romantic gestures all on his own.

He prefers pissing you off until you want to punch him. (He thinks it’s funny when you miss.)

Or getting his ears pulled when he’s saying something stupid and you’re trying to shut him up.

Korosensei knows you two won’t get anywhere without a push, he’s very observant with his students, he decided he could give you two the encouragement you needed.

Honestly what better self appointed wing man is there? Korosensei can pretty much make anything happen with his abilities! He does everything behind you and Karmas backs. He gets the students and his colleagues involved at times.

Karasuma has spoken against it, might’ve said something along the lines of “Stop poking your head into your students private lives.” But what would he know? Romance has to be pursued! Everyone knows if you can’t follow your heart Korosensei will follow it for you.

He can make the most random, insignificant moments about you two.

“Korosensei, do you have an eraser you could let me have?”

“Unfortunately I’m all out [Name]. Karma has plenty erasers you should ask him!”

Karma looks confused, his only eraser got stolen by Terasaka around 20 minutes ago when he asked to borrow it and never gave it back.

“I don’t? Terasaka has mine.”

“Nufufufu… check again!”

Within a second after you asked, Korosensei flew around the class and replaced everything in Karmas backpack with erasers.

Karma opens his backpack and erasers are the only thing in his backpack, he chucks a few at his teacher before giving you one.

Korosensei finds a way to preform extravagant romantic gestures on Karmas behalf.

That wouldn’t be so bad if Korosensei wasn’t so extra.

With his powers, he struggles not to get carried away with all the cool stunts he can pull!

Cue to him finding a way to write your names together in the sky (Like a sky writer) WITHOUT the airplane. Because he could probably find a way to do it himself. He’s faster than a plane and has nicer writing anyway.

As a teacher he can’t afford to hire [your Favorite music artist] to serenade you two. (Mostly because he’s horrible at budgeting and partly because Karma steals from him once in a while.) Any normal person would give up and maybe rent a boombox.

Korosensei doesn’t give in that easily, which is why he dressed up as the lead singer.

(imagine like his Karasuma Costume sort of situation) He had the rest of E class involved in the production.

Mimura on air guitar😭.

There’d be food catering and everything. The catering is Isogai who’s perfect for the job as he has experience and Maehara who keeps eating from the plates. (He gets fired and replaced with Meg.)

You and Karma both are pretty used to it at this point so it’s turned into something you poke fun at together. Free food is free food.

The most ironic thing is, Korosensei had nothing to do with the day you both started dating.

It was during the island trip when the guys were talking about the girls they like, when asked Karma said that he’d have to go with Okuda because she’s good at chemistry and she’d be helpful with his pranks.

You overheard as you were walking past the room, it made your heart ache. The following days he’d gotten the impression you were mad at him, but couldn’t figure out what he did to upset you. You distanced yourself out of hurt, feeling like he’d been leading you on this entire time. Eventually he pried it out of you (he’s annoyingly persistent not to mention really good at convincing you to go along with whatever he wants.) In this conversation he admits, he wasn’t being serious with his answer towards the guys, that she makes a good friend but he doesn’t like Okuda in that way. He tells you he can make it up to you if you agree to go out with him. Once you agree he goes in for an high-five like he had planned earlier, but you go in for a hug instead. He reciprocates after the initial surprise wears off. Maybe he is a hug person.

[houpss]

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

soft and fluff, will be about all members (!), there may be hints of smut

Chan, who sees the meaning of life in you and wants to see you always in front of him all his life.

What do they say? People who truly love will die one day.

Chan, who promised to love you until the day death finds him, and even after that. He doesn't want to leave you.

The most tender dates, the most tender times. He will give you all his love and attention.

Chan, who tells the members so much about you, you are their “9th member”

Chan, who you're talking to video call with his family! and btw with yours too.

Chan, who, regardless of how busy the day is, will spend the evenings with you. Whether it's cooking or watching a movie/serials/k drama

Chan, who remembers every little thing about you and does what you don’t even ask for, but are clearly thinking about.

Meeting Chan was fate, maybe you were given each other by fate?

Oh..he looks at you like an angel, his eyes shine so brightly when he sees you!

Chan, who gives you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers every Friday.

He writes you songs, from the sad to the most vulgar... oh, the boy is simply overwhelmed with emotions for you.

Chan, who takes you on all his world tours because he finds it difficult without you.

He is the most gentle and sweetest with you! your heart literally breaks with love for him, you want to love and kiss this man.

Chan, who sits you on his lap while he works and holds your waist with one hand...babe, he has hot and big hands

Chan, who pays for ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING for you. seriously, even if you argue with him.

I wrote this situation, but...

"Channie, make me some coffee please"

"Ugh...I'm late, little mouse"

"So you won't do it? :("

"That means I’ll be late” and goes to make coffee for his beloved woman/man

His favorite terms of endearment for you are subtle but classic: “sweetheart” and “baby,” but on special occasions he will call you “sweetheart” with a matching saccharine expression. Or “little mouse”, which is also very cute

Chan, sometimes he can get angry and yell at you, but that's because he puts too much pressure on himself at work.

Oh..during your quarrels even plates and insults fly. After one quarrel, there were broken plates and you cut yourself, he noticed this and took you to the bathroom, where he treated the wound and apologized to you almost a hundred times. And the plates...buy new ones.

Chan, who practices flirting with you like you're in high school, but he learned it from STAY

Chan, who gives you all his hoodies and absolutely everything... for some reason you love to steal his shorts and walk around the house in them. Ooh, he thinks they fit really sexy on your hips.

He'll give you a bear hug when you sleep, he's a big spoon

He also always kisses your forehead when he leaves for work, because you are still sleeping, and he is already leaving.

but keep in mind, Chan makes sweet sex to you, but his stroking game is so crazy, even when he takes his time with you, he's so deep inside you that it drives you crazy, you're literally pray

Chan is an experienced and mature man, he is completely confident in himself and in you. He takes the leading position in the relationship, he is the one who leads.

Do I need to tell you that all his things smell like your perfume? What if all your things are in his perfume?

You sometimes help him with lyrics or with song arrangements when he gets stuck and doesn’t understand what’s best to add.

You, who pulls the vat out of the studio.

You, who always checks how he ate or how much he slept. You absolutely monitor his regime and make sure he doesn’t overwork.

You are flying to Australia together to visit his family! they will bless your couple.

Hannah will definitely say funny things about Chris, and Lucas is so shy around you.

Oh...Berry, baby Berry 🥹🥹🥹

How about date nights?

You really raised Chan's self-esteem, with you...he fell in love with himself, just as you love him.

He's just grateful that you exist.

First love is always last love.

“Home” is not a place, it is sometimes only a man, the man whom you consider your home.

When you come, all Chan’s problems and wounds heal, he wants to live next to you.

[pomefioredove]

i crave angst and hurt/comfort/fluff maybe something like that with vil? maybe reader gets hurt pretty badly or something and vil gets upset?? hehe angsty scenarios>>

on my hands and knees rn... vil... save me vil...

summary: anger is an ugly emotion type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, angsty..... mentions of bullying/abuse etc?? very open ended you can interpret that how you please, GOD this is indulgent

Anger is an ugly emotion.

So much is true even for Vil Schoenheit. If you asked him, there is nothing more undignified than losing your composure in front of others, especially those under your care.

No, Vil keeps such emotions to himself. If he feels the need to get a point across, or to settle a conflict, he will do so with grace and dignity. He won't even break a nail.

This is different.

This is seeing you turn away from him with tears in your eyes, and feeling as if the very world itself is crashing down around him.

He cannot stand it.

He cannot stand seeing you like this.

It shakes him to his very core. You've had bad days, evenings where you come crawling into Pomefiore looking as if the world had chewed you up and spit you back out at his feet, and he's tended to it.

He's combed your hair, cleaned the dirt out from under you nails, bandaged your paper cuts with a sort of gentleness he doesn't even reserve for himself, made you look new and whole again.

Vil can't help with this.

It drives him mad. It makes him feel like he's stuck inside his own ribcage with nothing but the sound of his beating heart, trapped in a flurry of confusion and anxiety.

He wishes you would just talk about it. It would make everything so much easier if you would let him help.

But he won't pressure you. He couldn't bring himself to. And, quite frankly, if he knew even the slightest detail about whomever had been making you feel this way, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from finding them and mincing them to shreds.

As they deserved.

But Vil is not one to rush into anything. He is patient, cordial, taking his sweet time to understand a problem from all angles before enacting a solution.

And so, he doesn't ask.

He holds your chin between his delicate fingers and dabs at the corners of your eyes, hoping to brush away your misery along with your tears.

You sniffle. It's not a pretty sight- you're certainly no graceful crier.

He couldn't care less.

The only thing that Vil can think of now is how only one measly person could be your undoing.

After everything you've been through without even breaking a sweat, all it took were a few too-familiar words to melt you into a pool of bad memories and misery at his feet.

Sevens help whichever poor fool had done this to you.

"Now, now. That's alright," he coos, wiping your cheeks just as a new barrage of tears runs down them. "Don't worry about a thing."

You just barely manage to choke out a response. "I'm sorry, this is- this is embarrassing,"

"Nonsense. You have nothing to feel bad for. I promise I won't utter a word of this to the others,"

He cups your face in his palms, giving you a moment to compose yourself.

"Deep breaths," he instructs. "Seven seconds in, hold it, for just a moment, and then seven seconds out. There. Excellent job."

It's quiet. The sound of sobs and his own heart pounding seem to fade into quiet breaths shared between the both of you.

"Good," he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. A repetitive, soothing motion. "How do you feel?"

"Guilty," you say. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening."

"You've ruined nothing. You're very important to me, you know. I would never want you to think I'm too busy for you," he offers a smile. "Now, how do you feel?"

You're quiet for a moment, likely mulling over his words. Your voice is softer when you reply. "Tired,"

"Oh... you poor thing. I can't have you dead on your feet tomorrow, now, can I?"

You shake your head.

He stands, pulling you up with him. "Come along, then. Let's get you to bed. I'll help,"

He begins guiding you away from the couch you'd spent the better half of the evening sobbing on. You respond in a quiet voice.

"Vil?"

"Mm? Yes?"

"You promise you won't say anything about this to the others?"

A look of utter softness crosses his face at your request, and he smiles again. "My lips are sealed,"

[mean-girl-astarion]

This post is how I just found out that this used to be Astarion's camp clothes description:

And now I'm just... thinking about Astarion and clothes. Because we all know about the underwear embroidery that did end up in the final release:

These prompt the initial thought of, where on the clothing were these lines embroidered? (Read on for in depth thoughts/ramblings)

For the shirt, was it on the front? The back? The collar? Inside the collar, perhaps? Was it something he meant for everyone to see on the shirt, or tucked away somewhere on the fabric just for him to know about?

I'm inclined to think it would be something just for him. As the post I linked at the top does a wonderful job of examining, he didn't choose to sew this line into his shirt for any pretense or exaggeration of his personality - it was for him. He wanted this quote to be with him, words he felt a connection to. So as far as that goes, I think he would have embroidered the line somewhere not obvious to anyone else, like under the back of or on the inside of the collar.

As for the underwear, this is an entirely different story, isn't it? Because while it's objectively a funny/silly thing to sew into one's underwear, in contrast to the previous embroidery, I think this one was done with others in mind. The quote is something you would expect from Astarion's humor, but I can't help but feel that going as far as to put this on his underwear is also tied into the performance of his personality. So I think this line would be placed somewhere tastefully visible, like just under the waistline of the fabric, whether it be across the front, side, or back.

Think about it, when would he have had time to sew his clothing? I imagine it must have been in those in-between moments, when he wasn't in the middle of doing something for Cazador and he also wasn't actively being tortured. An in-between moment lasting long enough for him to be able to sit and sew, repairing any tears in his clothing, and eventually taking it far enough to embroider quotes into the fabric. Maybe keeping his hands busy and taking care of his clothing when he could granted him the tiniest sense of control in his life as a slave.

My point being, I think all the emotions that surround the situation he was trapped in for 200 years play a role in what he chose to sew into his clothing. Because this wasn't a leisurely hobby he did when the mood struck him, it was something he did when he just happened to find himself with some precious, fleeting moments alone.

"Lamentable is the autumn picker content with plums" is said to be a line from a poem. It provokes real emotion, has deeper meaning. They're words that Astarion read somewhere and didn't want to forget; words that remind him of a part of himself that he didn't want to forget.

"If you're reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way, you got lucky" has a very different tone in comparison, especially considering the fact that Astarion was not bedding anyone in his life by choice. In my opinion, the wording aligns with the mask he wears - the charismatic, flirtatious stranger whose primary objective is to seduce others, even if the overall humor of it does stem from his genuine personality.

But it also makes perfect sense for someone trying to cope with a miserable existence to try and find some humor where they can, doesn't it? I know I certainly cope with humor when I can. Sometimes even when I shouldn't, maybe, but everyone copes differently.

So picture Astarion, feeling used and pathetic after yet another night of the endless cycle of being forced to use his body for other's goals and pleasure, regardless of how much he hates it. He gets one of those in-between moments, so he sews.

Why use the time to embroider his underwear specifically? Looping back to what I suggested earlier, if using his rare in-between moments to care for his clothing gave him a minor sense of control of his life, then maybe sewing something into his underwear provides a sense of control, however small, within the cycle of bedding victims for Cazador. Because as suave and confident as he acts, we know he is actually feeling incredibly vulnerable every time he goes through the motions. No one he bedded actually "got lucky" in any way, because Astarion didn't actually have any bodily autonomy. He was going to bed with people whether he wanted to or not.

So what does sewing this line into his underwear do? It presents an illusion of choice - the false implication that bedding him was a "lucky" encounter; the implication that he often rejects people; the implication that Astarion has a say in whether or not he sleeps with someone. So putting this seemingly silly joke on his underwear, it's something that adds to his performance, but using his own humor in it might be something that helps him pretend that he does have a choice. And maybe, if the person he's with happens to notice the embroidery before he's taken off his underwear, they share a laugh about it, and maybe that final performative detail that he came up with gives him that feeling of being in control of his body. Even if he knows it isn't real, and that it'll be gone in a matter of moments.

Or, you know, maybe it isn't supposed to be that deep, and that's why they ended up not keeping in the shirt's embroidery and instead just kept the underwear one as a throwaway joke. But I personally have a hard time not wondering why Astarion would be sewing quotes into his clothing.

[riacte]

hermitcraft horror story staring false and ren in which it starts out as a fun silly haha world tour but after they pick up a bag at tango’s storage, they can’t find anyone— at least, anyone that can interact with them in some sort of meaningful way. hermits are afk, mysteriously run away, or turn mute. the world seems frozen in time— storages are empty, shops lack pricetags, creepers hide in doorways. no one talks to them. it’s like the world itself has stopped talking to them, the only sign of movement being the flicker on false’s multipass.

eventually things start getting Really Weird (weird even for their standards) so they hide in ren’s base and lock themselves in. the laika companion robot dog (that false gifted to ren) shows up for emotional support. something bad happens within the colony and they get separated, but they’re both able to navigate the colony (thanks to false’s multipass) and it’s a repeat of the house of nightmares lobby (aka. yelling out each other’s names repeatedly, except this time their voices bounce off empty corridors and echo eerily).

they find each other— or do they? BOOM imposter time (doctor who wild blue yonder style). false is instantly suspicious and keeps 10 blocks away from imposter ren (but she does this to the real ren anyway). ren is the complete opposite and goes omg false i found you :D let’s work this out together :DDD. imposter!ren desperately tries to convince the extremely paranoid false. meanwhile ren babbles to imposter!false who nods along. but false of course finds out the imposter is an imposter in a badass “the colonel calls me riza when we’re alone” way and instantly strikes. meanwhile our ren reveals he’s known the imposter false was fake from the start and was lulling her into a false sense of security so he could trap her (knowing he can’t beat her in pvp — this is also a reference to his demise 2 kill). false and ren reconcile. they also reconcile with the robot dog. and the space rats.

eventually they figure out a way to reset the server and turn it back normal with the power of twaddle and technobabble. the key ingredient is the macguffin— squirtiflora. and maybe chives. idk. anyways they twaddle their way back into reality because their back and forth twaddle feedback loop can break dimensions.

everything seems normal. they return the cursed bag to tango’s storage. they finally encounter a hermit (it does not matter who) and false and ren are too relieved to put on their salesman bit. it’s all smiles and giggles, the two leave, the hermit returns to their business. their smile fades. there’s an ominous pause.

false says bye to ren and returns to her base. the phantoms are still in their boats. maybe it’s a little quiet, or maybe it’s just the lack of ren.

unbeknownst to her, inside her pocket, her name on the multipass jolts. something flickers across the screen. then it powers off. her name is gone.

ren is cheerfully humming and making his way around his base and checking up on everything. but then something stops him in his tracks.

in sea of healthy plants, there is one dead plant— the first plant false created for him.

[loves-n-kisses]

Feathers in the Coffee Shop - Hawks x Reader fanfic

A story where Pro Hero Hawks takes a liking to the owner of a small coffee shop in Japan....but things don't go as planned.

Slow burn!!

TW! Violence, action, danger threats, emotional intensity, mild peril.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fukuoka, Japan. Present Day.

The bell above the door chimes, and you look up from steaming milk, brushing flour off your apron. Sunlit Brews is a small haven in Fukuoka’s bustle—wooden tables, mismatched mugs, and a chalkboard listing classics: espresso, cappuccino, matcha latte. The scent of fresh pastries and coffee fills the air, underscored by lo-fi music from a battered radio. Your café, built from years of savings, is nothing fancy, but it’s yours.

Keigo Takami—Pro Hero Hawks—struts in, crimson wings tucked, golden eyes glinting. “Yo, dove,” he says, leaning on the counter. “Got any of that fried chicken today? And a black coffee, stat.”

You snort, grabbing a to-go box. “You ever switch it up, hero? Or is chicken your whole deal?”

He clutches his chest, grinning. “Ouch, straight to the heart. This stuff’s my fuel, what can I say?” You notice a faint bruise on his cheek—another mission, probably. He doesn’t mention it, so neither do you.

As you hand over his order, a crimson feather drifts onto the counter. You pick it up, frowning. “You’re shedding again. I’m gonna start charging you for cleanup.”

Hawks chuckles, but his gaze lingers. “Keep it. Call it a tip.” He slides cash into the jar—way too much—and saunters out, wings catching the afternoon light.

You twirl the feather, slipping it into your pocket. You’ve found others lately—tucked in a menu, stuck under a table. Sloppy hero habits, you assume. Still, you wonder.

Hawks becomes a regular over the next month. Mornings, he’s there for coffee, tossing nicknames—dove, sunshine, chief. Evenings, he lingers after hours, helping you sweep or teasing your “dull civilian routine.” You clap back, calling him a “feather duster with a badge,” but his easy laugh warms the café like the sunlight through the windows.

One night, you’re wiping down tables when he slips in, wings singed, jacket scuffed. “Tough day?” you ask, pushing a coffee his way, no charge.

He slumps onto a stool, rubbing his eyes. “Just hero stuff—y’know, savin’ the day, dodgin’ suits.” His smirk fades fast. You sit across from him, the café quiet, streetlights glowing outside.

“This place,” he murmurs, “it’s… solid. Not like up there, where it’s all a blur. Ever feel trapped, even when you’re free?”

You nod, thinking of the endless grind—bills, suppliers, early mornings. “Yeah. This shop’s my dream, but it’s work. Still, it’s mine.” You pause. “What’s got you so deep, Keigo?”

He blinks at his name, no “Hawks.” “You, maybe. Makin’ me think.” He leans closer, and your pulse skips. His fingers graze yours, but he pulls back, wings twitching. “Gotta bounce. Keep this place safe, yeah?”

He leaves, and you find another feather on the stool. You drop it into a mug behind the counter, heart thudding.

The radio crackles with news about the Crimson Talons, a villain crew hitting local businesses tied to heroes. You tune it out, focused on kneading dough. But Hawks’ visits get spotty—he’s late, bruised, distracted. You catch him scanning the café, feathers quivering like they sense something.

One evening, a customer leaves a note under a saucer: Tell the bird to watch his back. You show it to Hawks, expecting a quip. His jaw clenches. “Just a punk mouthing off,” he says, but a feather zips out the door, scouting. “Don’t stress, dove. I got you.”

You’re not so sure. Later, you’re restocking sugar when he helps, joking about your “caffeine empire.” Your hands brush, and his wings flare, eyes locking with yours. “Trouble,” he mutters, but he doesn’t pull away. Not yet.

The attack hits during a lunch rush. The bell chimes, but it’s not Hawks—three figures in black, quirks sparking. “Where’s the Winged Hero?” one growls, smashing a chair. Glass shatters, customers scream, and you shove a teenager behind the counter, gripping a tray like a shield.

“Stay low!” you snap, pulse racing. A villain hurls a table, and you’re cornered when a gust roars through. Hawks lands, feathers slicing like knives, dropping two goons in seconds. His eyes are wild, searching for you.

“Hey, Dove!” He spots you, vaulting debris. A villain grabs you, but a feather slashes their wrist, freeing you. Hawks pulls you behind the counter, wings shielding you. “Stay with me!” he growls, voice raw. 

You nod, adrenaline pumping. When a villain charges, you chuck a mug, nailing them in the head. Hawks grins mid-fight. “Nice shot, chief!”

Hawks clears the villains, but a blast grazes his side, blood staining his jacket. The Talons flee, and you’re left in the wreckage, hands shaking as you grab a towel to press against his wound.

“You good?” you ask, voice unsteady. His wing’s torn, feathers scattered.

“Been worse,” he grunts, but he hisses as you dab the cut. “Sorry ‘bout your shop. This… it’s on me.”

“Stop,” you say, softer. “You saved us. That’s enough.”

He meets your eyes, no mask. “This place, you—it’s where I’m not ‘Hawks.’ I need that. Need you.” His voice breaks, and you freeze, towel in hand.

“I need you too, Keigo,” you whisper. “Not the hero. You.”

He smiles, real, and leans his forehead against yours. “Guess we’re stuck with each other, huh?”

Weeks Later

Sunlit Brews reopens, patched up—Hawks quietly covers the costs, waving it off as “tax write-off.” The mug of feathers stays behind the counter, your little secret. He’s still a regular, staying late to help with dishes or brainstorm pastry ideas.

One night, he grins, wings spreading. “Wanna see the city from my view, chief?” You laugh, heart racing, as he sweeps you up, soaring over Fukuoka’s twinkling lights. His warmth anchors you, the sky vast and endless.

For the first time, it feels like freedom.

[nakidoriii]

See you Later, Mr.President Part 7

Hawks x Fem!Reader Mini Series

FIND PARTS 1-6 HERE

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, sex in public, || MDNI!!!

Art: @/lunalovelingo2

Keigo is starting to panic internally. Did I say something wrong to her? What can I say or do to cheer her up? He keeps driving for a few miles until he sees a park. He pulls into the lot and parks the car. You were confused as to what he was doing but you didn’t question him. He turns towards you and caresses your face.

“What’s going on in that head yours, hmm?” He asks softly. 

You’re practically melting under his touch. He knew how to get you to talk but it’s gonna take alot more than his usual sweet talk. You just weren’t sure how to tell him how you were feeling. It’s kind of hard to ask someone to open up… especially when they specialize in being surface level with everyone. 

“You lie so well…” Tears form in your eyes as you reveal some of what’s on your mind. It felt so stupid to cry over this. Maybe it’s the stress of potentially losing your job that’s finally hitting you. 

“Yeah I do. Kinda comes with the title. Being President and a retired spy means I have to be a good liar.” He chuckles. “What’s going on, pretty girl? Be honest.” He urges you. 

“Keigo, I don't know anything about you. You’re a sweet guy and you care about me so much. You’ve always been open in regards to your feelings about me. But don't you think it’s a little crazy that we’re getting so deeply involved with each other so fast? I’m moving into your house after knowing you for two months.” You admit.

Keigo stops and thinks for a moment. You’re right. He was so busy trying to get you to open up that he didn’t open up to you. It wasn’t like he was withholding information on purpose. He’s just so used to getting information out of people with nothing in exchange. 

“You’re right. It’s a nasty habit I’m still trying to shake. I’m sorry.” He lightly caresses your face. “You’re sacrificing a lot just to clear my name when you don’t have to. The least I could do is open up more.” 

“Only if you’re ready for that. I don’t want to force you to open about things that could be traumatic. I just wanted you to know that I am here to listen when you are ready. I want to know about the experiences that shaped you into the man that I am falling for.” You explain. 

“Falling for? You’re falling for me?” Keigo mumbles. 

“I am. That’s why I’m scared. I’ve never felt like this before in such a short amount of time… and I didn’t think I would at 28 years old.” You admit. 

Hearing you confess your feelings to Keigo jump started his pulse. All of his prying and romantic gestures finally paid off.

“You don’t understand what you do to me, Y/N. Meeting you flipped my whole world upside down. I’m a retired pro hero and the President of the HPSC, I wasn’t looking for love. I tried for weeks fighting off my feelings for you. It just kept growing stronger and stronger every interaction we had. Fate brought us together that night at the bar and I don’t regret a thing.” He presses your hand to his cheek and looks lovingly in her eyes. “I know I promised that you wouldn’t lose your job. I am still going to fulfill that promise, one way or another. Trust me when I say that. Being with you brings me a peace I’ve never known and I would do anything to keep that peace.” He admits. 

Your eyes start to water as you process what he’s saying to you. You weren’t one to be emotional but due to all the stress, you've been crying quite a bit. Keigo gently wipes your tears as he says, “You crying? I didn’t say anything too bad did I?” 

“No, everything you said was amazing. I-I just have been so emotional lately. I usually don’t cry like this.” You say as Keigo consoles you. 

“Whhaaaa! You’re emotional over potentially losing your job?  Why would you cry over that?” He sarcastically states. 

You chuckle at him and say, “Right, only a pussy would cry over that.”

You both share a light chuckle as he kisses your forehead. 

“Once we have the press conference, let’s use the rest of the week to relax. Maybe Mira can come visit if she isn’t so busy at the clinic?” He suggests. 

You nod your head in agreement and relax into the passenger seat. You text your best friend, telling her how much you miss her. 

𝚈𝚘𝚞: 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑🙃 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗? 

𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚊: 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝙿𝚃𝙾. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚎. 

𝚈𝚘𝚞: 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳!! 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳!!!

𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚊: 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑!!! 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 👀

𝚈𝚘𝚞: 𝚆𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎 🤤

𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚊: 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚛.𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍….

𝚈𝚘𝚞: 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕,,, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 

𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚊: 🤭

“She said she’ll try to get a flight tomorrow if there’s any available.” 

“My guess is she’ll be able to get an evening flight for tomorrow and arrive after the conference if it’s not too bad with the tourists.” Keigo says as he rests his hand on your thigh. “I’m excited to meet someone so important to you.” 

Once you two got back, you started unpacking your personal belongings. Keigo insisted you put everything in his room. 

“You’re gonna be sleeping in there anyway. Might as well.” He says while carrying your luggage upstairs. 

You didn’t fight him on this. His bedroom and bathroom are so spacious and beautifully decorated like the rest of his house. You follow him upstairs with the rest of your belongings. He already has your suitcases opened and is putting your clothes on hangers. 

“I bet you look fucking hot in this.” He says holding up a skimpy lingerie slip you bought ages ago. 

“Oh I do.” You state nonchalantly as you walk over to the bathroom and unpack your toiletries. 

You got his mind wondering. The minute you got out of sight, Keigo stared at the lewd slip dress. A transparent lace makes up the top and bottom of the tiny dress while silk makes up the middle of the slip. He rubbed the material between his fingers as he thought of you wearing it. The thought of being able to see your breasts through the transparent lace excited him. He looks over at the bathroom to make sure you are preoccupied with organizing your skin care. He holds the fabric up to his face, feeling the soft silk rub against his flushed cheeks. Just the lingering smell of you on the fabric got his dick semi hard. 

He quickly puts the slip down as you come back into the room. The apples of his cheeks were red as he continued placing your clothes on hangers. You stop to notice that he’s blushing. 

“You okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Keigo says making direct eye contact. 

You flash a look of doubt and ask, “Why are you blushing then?”

He lightly chuckles and says, “Honestly, I imagined you wearing the lingerie. I know, that’s perverted.” 

“I don’t mind… I’ll wear it for you soon so you don’t have to imagine.” You say leaving the room to continue your task.

Keigo just now realized that having you here is going to be very difficult for him. Having to have self control at work was one thing but to have self control in his own home? That's asking alot of the poor guy. But he managed. The day was spent getting you settled into his home, figuring out a course of action for the conference meeting and catching up on presidential duties. You and Kegio spent 3 hours on the phone with Keigo’s publicist working on the speeches and gathering information on what the public thinks. After that, you two sat on the floor in the living room, working damn near 5 hours to get Keigo caught up on his work.

“Ooookay, I think that’s enough seriousness for today.” Keigo says as he closes his laptop. 

“You sure? I was thinking we could get ahead for the week.” You say looking over his paperwork.

He stares at you in silence right before he flicks you on the forehead and says, “Stop trying to do my job for me. You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

You rub your forehead as he gathers all the paperwork scattered in front of you. 

“You’re right, I know I should be relaxing. I just feel so empty without my job.” You admit. 

Keigo furrows his brows together as he scratches his head in confusion. 

“You… want to work?” Keigo asks.

You laugh knowing Keigo’s relationship with work. He would love to have a break. 

“Okay, hear me out.” You say crawling over to him and sitting in his lap. 

He wraps his arms around you and says, “I’m listening.”

“It wasn’t until I worked on the Administrative side of Social Work that I felt like I was making a change. Actually being about to develop better programs for people with unusual quirks, villain rehabilitation, and quirk counseling. When I was just starting, I watched so many people get failed by the system and made me hate my job but now I’ve seen the change because I forced the change. I know I can just get hired by another organization that does the same thing. I was just really excited to be so heavily involved in developing a collaboration program with Japan’s HPSC.” She admits. 

“We’re very similar, you know. I took my position for that same reason. Wanting to rebuild the system that failed so many heroes…” Keigo says as he nuzzles his head into your neck and squeezes you. “The commission used to own me. I was bought from my mother and was trained to be used as the HPSC’s personal weapon.”

Your lips slightly part as you process what he’s telling you. You rub his arms as a way to comfort him. You knew he worked for the commission when he was a hero but to be bought and separated from his mother is a whole other story. These were the types of situations you’d hear about that made you get into the field. 

“Being the president of the organization that held you captive to dismantle the corruption from within. You really are the ultimate hero.” You say softly. 

Every time you learned more about him, it made you fall deeper in love with him. You admired his selflessness and devotion to making this world a safer place for the next generation.  

“You think so?” He questions. 

“Yeah, I do. You’re my number one hero.” You claim. 

***********

The vibration of Keigo’s phone on his night stand caused him to wake up. You were asleep on his chest as he reached over to grab his phone. It was a text from his assistant. 

“I saw you turned in everything last night. Have a good two days off! I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” 

All of that work you helped him do last night was actually for the next two days off. Today he wanted to take you out on a date and give you a nice day off. Who knows what chaos this conference will bring tomorrow so today is all about making you feel good. His plan was to make you breakfast and take you to a private onsen just for the two of you. It had been awhile since Keigo had been to an onsen. He thought that it would be a perfect thing for you to relax…but of course he has an ulterior motive. He wanted to have a reason to see his beautiful girlfriend naked and oiled up. He blushed to himself as he envisioned it. He didn’t realize how touch starved he was until he started seeing you. He gets up and starts his morning routine. While doing so he thinks of other things you guys could do that’s relaxing. 

“Ohayo.” You mumble from the bed. 

“Ohayo. Yoku yasumemashita ka?” He says as he dries his face. 

You think for a second, trying to see if you know what he said. 

“Did I rest well? Hai.” You say. 

“Gokuro sama, baby.” Keigo says, tilting his head to the side. 

You get up and walk into the bathroom and hug him from behind. He kisses your cheek and pats your head. 

“Your sexy, strong, boyfriend is taking you somewhere cool today.” He sings. 

“That’s sweet of you. Where are we going?” You ask.

“I’m not telling you. Why would I do that?” He says while furrowing his brow. 

You laugh at his contradicting statements and said, “Can you at least tell me what to wear?” 

“Sundress. No bra, no panties.” Keigo states with his usual half lidded eyes. 

“……okay where the fuck are we going?” You say with a chuckle. 

“I’ll tell you because without context, it sounds crazy. I’m taking you to a spa that has rooms with private open air onsen.” He says with a chuckle.

 “Ohhh, I was about to say…” you say while giving Keigo a side eye. 

************** 

Once you get to the onsen, you and Keigo shower down. Keigo insists on washing every crevice of your body for you. You let him as long as you get to return the favor.

“Your skin is always so smooth and soft. You barely have any scars.” He says rubbing the wash cloth over your back. 

“My parents were very protective of me growing up. I was their little princess.” You say with your eyes closed.

“I can tell. I can't help but to spoil you every chance I get.” He says running the water over your naked body to get the soap off. 

You chuckle and say, “My turn.”

You lather up the soap in the washcloth and start by washing his torso. You were gentle when washing over any of his scars. He had hundreds of them. 

“I got that scar when I got stabbed by a bioengineered creature.” He says nonchalantly. 

You look at him and sarcastically say, “Love!”

You two giggle. You run your wash cloth over a scar that starts on his ribcage and stretches over his entire upper back and say, “This is a big one.”

“Yea, I got burned pretty badly. My feathers took forever to grow back.” He says. 

You move on to another on his shoulder. 

“I got shot.”

His neck.

“Blade.” 

Once you rinsed the soap off of him, you kissed the scar on his shoulder. He looks down at you and kisses the top of your head. He loved how you comfort him with physical touch. He knows you can’t relate to him all the time but you find ways to make him feel as if he isn’t alone. He loved this about you. You two walk over to the hotspring and slowly get in. It took Keigo a minute for his body to adjust to the heat but once he did, he sat across from you. You both closed your eyes as you took in the sounds of nature. An occasional breeze would come and blow past the two of you as you soaked. He spoke softly about his past, informing you about his previous travels and adventures he went on with his wings.

“It’s been about 15 minutes. Do you wanna get out for a bit and relax in the room? I can give you a massage on the bed?” Keigo offers. 

You nod your head and agree. He gets out the spring and grabs you a towel. He wraps one around his waist as you wrap one around your chest. Keigo pours oil in his hand right before he rubs them together. 

“You ready? Come lay down on your stomach.” Keigo says with a smirk. 

You roll your eyes and press your lips together as you laid down on the massage table. You know Keigo has ulterior motives, when does he not? He may be doing this out of the kindness of his heart but it’s gonna lead to him getting his dick wet. He starts with your legs, running his hands down the back of your thighs and calves. He grabs your right foot and gently messages them with his thumbs. Keigo doesn’t have a foot fetish but your feet have always been exceptionally pretty to him. He works his fingers in between your painted toes. He moves up to your calves, and then your thighs again. You slightly separate your legs so he could see your glistening cunt underneath your towel. He immediately bites his lip once he sees how wet you are. He swiftly slides two fingers into your cunt. 

He bends down, placing his mouth right next to your ear and whispers, “You’d think we’d learn our lesson after the security footage leaked, but nope. Here you are letting me finger you at the onsen. At least no one can see us but they would be able to hear you. So you’ve got to be quiet, pretty girl. Let’s make this quick.” 

You nod your head as he continues to push his digits deeper in you. His left hand was massaging the plump of your ass, while you let out the smallest whimpers as you grind on his fingers.

“That’s it, baby.” He whispers. 

He starts licking and biting the side of your neck as you pleasure yourself on his fingers. He slides his fingers out of you whilst lifting your hips off the massage table, causing your ass to be in the air. He drags his tongue over your wetness, eating you out from the back. Your toes curl as he pushes his tongue between your folds, groaning as if the pleasure was his. 

A breathless, “Yes” falls from your lips as he continues to devour you.

 He made it so hard to be quiet, yet he loved to have his way with you in public settings. He pulls away from your wetness, giving it one more kiss before he was truly done. You sit up on your butt, letting your legs dangle off the side of the massage table. Keigo pulls you into a kiss, making you taste yourself. He fondled your round breasts while caressing your tongue against his. You wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you up by your thighs. He pushes your back up against the cool wall as he pushes the tip of his dick inside of you. 

“Ī ko chan (good girl).” He whispers into your ear with slow hard thrusts from his hips. He digs his calloused fingertips in your thigh as he makes his way deeper inside you. “Nureteru (You’re so wet).” He hums.

You gasp and jokingly cover his mouth. He chuckles, knowing that you're on to him. He never ‘talks you through it’ in Japanese but of course he would when it raises the chances of you two getting caught. 

“You’re not slick -hah!- I know what you’re doing.” Your words coming out in between moans as he  repeatedly lowers you on his dick. 

“I can’t help it. I wish the world could watch me fuck you.” He admits as he speeds up.

He didn’t want to get caught but he wasn’t stopping until he hits your g spot. Each thrust was formulated, constantly adjusting and changing his approach until he finally felt that spongy area on the tip of his dick. You quickly cover your mouth, muffling the yelp you let out.

“Atta (There it is).” He groans as your walls tighten around his shaft.

Once he hits it, he doesn’t miss. He drills into you repeatedly, eventually not caring if he’s making noise. He places all his weight on you, making sure you stay in place while you take his dick. You run your nails down his scarred back as you bite your lip, whimpering lightly. Sweat drips down his forehead as he throws his head back and grunts the word, “Iku (I’m cumming).”

You don’t even have to say the words, he knew you were cumming by the way your walls were pulsating around him. You wrap your legs around his hips to pull him closer to you causing him to paint your walls with his warm cum. He mumbles the words “I love you” in your ear as you both ride out your orgasm. 

Hearing those words send a jolt through your body. He didn’t mean that, did he? That’s the first time he’s ever said those words to you… and he said while balls deep in you. 

“Keigo, did you mean..that.” You say as he puts you down, your eyes locked onto his half lidded ones. 

“Why would I say it if I didn't mean it?” He says in a low voice. “I would feel stupid giving you this if I didn't tell you my true feelings first.”

You and him both get dressed in robes that were left in the room for guests to use.He walks into the bathroom and returns with a tiny box in his hand. He hands you the box with a smirk on his face. You look down at it and then back up at him.

“Open it.” He says. 

You open the box to reveal a gorgeous ring. You gasp and cover your mouth as you stare at the ring. You’re aware that he isn’t really proposing and this is a fake engagement ring to fool the public but it’s a nice one. It has to be like 4 carats!? He really went all out on this. 

“Keigo….” You say in shock. 

“I know, I know. It’s one hell of a promise ring… and it’s moissanite. I know how you feel about real diamonds.” He chuckles. “I know that this is technically a fake engagement but my love for you is real. This ring is a promise to you. I promise to be the person you can lean on whenever. I promise to make you happy everyday for the rest of your life….. and I promise to make you feel loved in any way that I can. Y/N, I love you.” He rambles.

“I love you, too.” You say you pull him into a hug.

So sorry for the long wait!!! I have been so preoccupied this month but this series is almost done!!! Next chapter we get the press conference and your best friend comes into town!!! Thank you for the patience and thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @zinflo @seijuroww @beabamboo @beautifulsandwichcrown {open}

Please do not copy or steal my work ©️

[theconstantsidekick]

Lit Cigarettes (Part 1)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x BestFriend!Reader, Damon Salvatore x Stefan Salvatore x Sister!Reader (mentioned) Genre: Angsty Fluff

Summary: Y/n decides that Dean Winchester really needs to know how she feels about him.

(Set after the events of Supernatural season 4 and yes, Y/n is technically a Salvatore. I love the adopted sibling trope, can you tell?)

a/n: I have another part in mind if this does well.

Warnings: Smoking, mentions of smoking, romanticisation of smoking, a lot of that yes, sorry. Don't smoke kids.

Part 2 is here

He used to light her cigarettes when she was too busy talking. That’s what love is. According to her, that is the truest, most genuine form of love. The idea might sound quite contradictory, somehow. But it would make sense to smokers all around the world. 

The thought that somebody would just pluck the cigarette out of your hand, light it, take a little puff to keep the light aflame and just place it back between your index and middle finger. That’s somehow so painfully selfless that it can’t be classified as anything other than the most romantic act known to mankind. 

Now, the tragedy of it all was that that was the only showing of love she ever got from him. All she ever got was a lit cigarette handed off to her while she was too invested in spewing absolutely random bullshit about the sensors on automatic doors at some blackwater motel in an unnamed town. He’d do it quietly. He wasn’t quiet but there was always a quietness about him. Not quiet in the truest definition of the word. He was quiet in a different way, he talked. He was always charming, never not charming. He smiled and charmed everyone further still, but it felt like a very well rehearsed performance. His words, his charm, his smile seemed rehearsed, practiced relentlessly. A stark contrast to how they talked, when he talked to her and just her. Or well, so she thought until she found out that he could talk with a genuine smile to just about anyone unless there was a room full of people. Until the day she found that out, she felt quite special about it.

She felt important to him, enough for him to talk around her more, smoke around her more and light her cigarettes when she was too busy talking.

He never smoked around anyone else, hid the bad habit from his brother, but never her. It made her feel like there was a precarious unspoken bond between the two of them that could break at the mere mention of it. Could it?

She’s going to find out.

“Dean,” she calls out in no urgency, with a quiet calm. They are packing up their things, leaving the small motel room behind for another one in another town. Sam’s out at the reception, settling the bill. He’ll be back soon, she needs to wrap this up before he comes back. 

“Yeah?” Dean answers, never looking up from the duffle bag he’s aggressively shoving his clothes into.

“I love you.”

Dean’s motion halted at once. He doesn’t move, she thinks maybe he can’t move.

“Dean?”

The man in front of her gulps, audibly. “Yeah?”

“I love you.” It feels important to reiterate in this case. 

“I—” Words seem to be straining him. “I heard you the first time.”

“Good,” she tells him and then resumes packing her shit. But there’s a few more things to add, “I know we don’t talk about it, I know we aren’t supposed to. I know you’ve always known that I loved you and we still never talk about it, which means you don’t feel the same way, which again, I know. I am not trying to change your mind, I’m not trying to get into your pants. I’m certainly not asking you to love me back. I am not asking for anything actually, so you can quit looking so fucking terrified. I just needed to tell you because you up and died and it felt like my life stopped, like I couldn’t fucking breathe anymore. I felt hollow and broken and it felt wrong to be alive…” He looks at her then. Her voice is so thick with emotions, even though she is trying to keep them at bay, he must have felt compelled to look at her, she muses.

Shaking her head, she exhales audibly. “But you’re back now and I just needed to say it. I’ve loved you since I first saw you when I was 13. I don’t know how to not be in love with you, trust me, I’ve tried. So, I've learnt to make peace with it. I definitely don’t need you to say something, I just needed you to know that I love you, always have, most probably I always will. I need you to know that you are loved.”

There is silence then, no words, just the sound of her footsteps as she goes around the room picking up things she wants to shove into her bag.

“I…” Dean tries. But the words fade away just as quickly as the thoughts strike him. She looks at him for a second but the silence that proceeded makes her look away. She has just dropped a huge bomb, not that it was some revelatory information but it was something they had avoided talking about for literally ever, so it was fair that he needed some time to come up with a response. She is more than happy to give it to him.

But then Sam walks back into the room. “I’m pretty sure the dude at the reception thinks we’re a freaking thruple.” He walks to the washroom to collect his toiletry pouch and begins packing as well. “I mean, I’m not sure I can blame him? But I want to?” He shrugs. “Dean and I really don’t look all that alike, maybe that’s it? But this is like, the seventh motel in a row that’s given me really weird looks, you know? I don’t know whether to be flattered or plain disgusted—” His words drop off, as he finally notices the atmosphere in the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks looking from his brother to his best friend.

“Yes,” Dean replies at the same time as she says, “No.”

“NO?!” Dean balks at her.

“Can you guys drop me off at the bus stop? I gotta head to Mystic Falls,” she says, zipping up her bag and exiting the room.

Dean follows her instantly. “Mystic Falls? I thought you weren’t talking to your brothers?” Running up to catch up with her, he races even further ahead to open the trunk of his car for her. 

“Yeah, but that was last week,” she tells him as if that was enough explanation. She places her bag in the trunk.

“They kicked you out!” Dean seems on edge. She can’t completely understand why. 

She looks at him. “It’s Stef’s birthday.”

“He’s had a couple hundred of those,” Dean argues.

She smiles, “I hope he has a couple hundred more, and I’ll try to attend them all.”

“Damon forgot yours!” 

She shrugs. “I’ll pretend to forget his. But this is Stefan. And besides, Caroline invited me. You want me to bail and piss her off?”

He slams the trunk shut. “Fine!” He acquiesces, albeit very aggressively. “But I’m dropping you to the Boarding House, not a fucking bus stop.”

Meanwhile, Sam comes out, carrying his own luggage as well as Dean's—who had apparently completely forgotten about it. He opens the trunk again, eyeing Dean and her very suspiciously.

She moves to open the back door of the Impala. “You’re going to Ohio, it’s like a three hour detour.”

“It’s two hours with me behind the wheel. Get in,” he commands, leaving no room for any argument. 

“I was doing that anyway,” she says almost to herself, getting in the back. 

Dean stops her. “Get in the front. Sam’ll sit in the back.”

“I will?” Sam questions, lost.

Dean doesn’t care. He just gets in the driver seat, not waiting on either of the two. A look passes between Sam and her. He raises a brow in question, she just smiles and shrugs again in response and gets in.

Later, when Sam’s already asleep in the backseat, Dean clears his throat.

“So.”

She doesn’t turn around to look at him, she isn’t sure she was supposed to, and it’s drizzling, she doesn’t want to turn away from the window, not yet. “So.”

She can feel him shift uncomfortably next to her. “You gonna say anything?” He asks.

She thinks for a second. “I don’t think I have anything left to say, really. I said everything I had to say.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Dean yells out.

She has to look at him then, with ire in her eyes. “SHhhh!! He’s sleeping!” She whisper-yells at him, pointing to Sam in the back seat. 

Trying to compose himself once again, Dean whisper-yells back at her, “What do you mean you’ve said everything you had to?”

“I said it, in the motel,” She explains.

“And that was it? The end of the conversation?” Dean questions, seeming very agitated.

“I mean, yeah! What else am I supposed to do?” She throws back, his agitation is quite contagious. It always has been. 

“You really think that was a reasonable end to that conversation?!” Dean bites.

She’s getting annoyed now. “What do you want? You want me to elaborate? Write a thesis paper on it? Or—or would you like to read my diary where I scribbled ‘Y/n Winchester’ a million times? What exactly is the resolution you’re looking for here?”

“You wrote ‘Y/n Winchester’ in your diary a million times…?” He asks, almost as if he cannot comprehend the idea of it. 

From anyone else she would’ve taken that as an insult. Had it been anyone else they might have actually been making fun of her. But it’s not anyone else. It’s Dean. So she’s compelled to look at him.

“Yeah, Dean. And it was just as embarrassing then as it is right now. But I was the nerdy teenager and you were the hot jock who the cheerleaders at Mystic Falls High were dying to date.” Just the thought of those days makes her morose. “I don’t like to think about those days.”

Then there is silence again.

Until Dean clears his throat, slowly he says, “But I never drove any of them home.” And damn it all to hell, it makes her smile. And damn it all to hell, her smile apparently makes him more confident in his approach. “I didn’t wait for them outside their place, blaring AC/DC at the crack of dawn, all to get milkshakes before school… It was you. I wanted to hang out with you.”

But that’s somehow the wrong thing to say, “Never at school.”

“What?” Dean asks, thrown off.

“You didn’t talk to me at school.” Admitting it, it breaks something in her all over again. It’s like she’s in highschool again. She hates it.

“That’s not true! We had lunch together everyday!” He defends.

“Nope,” she tells him. “You had lunch with the cheer squad while I sat on the table next to you silently eating really bad beans.”

“But I was there,” He tries.

“You were,” she concedes. “You were there but you weren’t there.”

Silence falls once again.

“I don’t blame you,” she is the one that breaks it. “For high school.”

“Why not?” Dean asks, sounding genuinely more hurt at the fact that she doesn’t blame him than the fact that she accused him of ignoring her.

“It’s a weird time for everyone, and I think Mystic Falls High was the first time you got to actually enjoy it. You stayed there long enough to stop being the new kid and I think it was also the first time you felt like you fit in. I didn’t, and that was never your fault… or your problem for that matter,” she explains, fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

“That’s not fair,” Dean opposes.

“What?”

“Your problems are my problems.”

And the finality of his statement gives her a weird sort of confidence to say, “Sheesh. Wonder why I ended up falling in love with you.” 

The car skids a little.

She can’t help it, she laughs.

“YOU CAN’T JUST SAY SHIT LIKE THAT!” Dean argues.

She’s still laughing, “I’m sorry. But… Come on! It was kinda funny.” 

“I did not find that funny! Not even a little bit! What’s so funny about being—” He cuts himself off.

She laughs a little harder. “That’s what’s funny! You can’t even say it! You wanna know what’s so funny about being in love with you? I can’t stop it. It’s…” She sits up to position her back towards the window and moves herself to face Dean better. “It’s like breathing. I have tried, time and time again, to stop, and for a while I can. I can try to hold my breath when I’m being mindful of it. I can remember not to breathe when I’m focused on not breathing but the moment my brain gets engaged anywhere else, I’m screwed. The moment I look away, the moment I burn my toast, or start reading a book or watch a film, the moment I’m in a rush to meet Bonnie, the moment my mind becomes occupied with anything other than the conscious thought reminding me not to breathe—BAM! I’m falling in love with you again. It’s so fucking easy, it’s so fucking comfortable. Loving you is the my most cherished accomplishment because I’ve done it so fucking well for so freaking long.” She smiles. “I feel like I deserve a prize.”

Dean stays silent.

Her smile fades.

She shakes her head, she knew what he felt. She’s always known how he feels. A long silence shouldn’t be the thing that aches her heart. Not after having been in love with this man for this long.

“Did you—” He cuts himself short. She turns to him again, eager for him to continue. And her silent pleas are heard loudly. Continue he does, “Did you decide to tell me… about this today cause we met 15 years ago today?”

“No,” she brushes him off. “I just needed to get this off my—” Suddenly his words strike her like a thunderbolt. “What do you mean 15 years ago today?”

He shrugs, eyes on the road. “A day before Stefan’s birthday, that’s when we met for the first time.”

“You… You remember the day we met?” She asks, dumbfounded.

Dean doesn’t answer, instead the car comes to a stop. He’s pulled into the parking lot of a 7Eleven. “I’ll be right back.”

Only when she watches Dean get out of the car and walk into the store does she realise that it’s the 7Eleven in Mystic Falls. They are only a few minutes away from the Salvatore Boarding house, barely 12 minutes away from her brothers’ place. 

She can’t believe she feels this way but a part of her feels like she’s running out of time. But running out of time for what? It’s Dean! He’ll be there to pick her up two days later. He’ll be there to light her cigarettes in a crowd—and not mean absolutely anything by it—in two days time. It’s not that long. They’ve dropped her off to live with her brothers’ for weeks even. Two days is nothing. It’s barely a visit. Then why in God’s name does she feel like there’s a clock right above her head counting down. And counting down to what??

“Here you go,” Dean says, as he gets in and throws something in her lap. 

She catches out of reflex. “Cigarettes?” It’s two packs of menthols, her current favorite.

“What about ‘em? You like these right?” He pulls out of the parking lot. “You quit Marlboro Reds a month ago, and switched to these so I thought they’d be a safer bet. Was I wrong?” 

It’s natural though. The most natural thing in the world. Dean buys her cigarettes. He always buys her cigarettes.

The thing about smoking that most people don’t understand is that it opens a whole new world. It’s bad obviously and no one should do it. But when you do it, when you smoke, there are a few things, a few rules that might not mean anything to a non-smoker but mean everything to a smoker. 

Take for instance, ‘Puff-Puff-Pass’. 

For any random person, the intricacies of ‘Puff-Puff-Pass’ exists to the extent of its name. But only a smoker knows that in an intimate setting, between two friends, the rule doesn’t apply. It’s rude not to follow the rule in a social gathering amongst semi-strangers, but among the two of them, it never applied.

Similarly, buying someone cigarettes is the purest gesture of care. 

Having a pack ready for consumption whenever she came back from a visit to the Salvatore Boarding House? To her that always felt like the loudest way that Dean could tell her that he cared for her. 

And he did these things often. Even when he quit smoking, he’d light her cigarettes for her. For as long as Dean has known she smokes, she has never lit a cigarette for herself. These gestures of… call it love, call it self-destruction, they have never not been there. So him buying her cigarettes is the most natural thing in the world but it throws her off still.

“Y/n?”

“What?” She suddenly remembers there was a question there, in his words before. “Oh yeah. Menthols… I smoke menthols now, yes. Good guess.”

He noticed me change my cigarettes? She asks herself, feeling something very close to giddy. Before she has to scream at herself inside, cause Dean has always done this and it has never meant anything. It’s just his small way of adhering to his duty of care.

“Thanks,” she tells him belatedly. She doesn’t fail to notice how the words make his nose scrunch up—the way it usually does when he dislikes something.

“You said you’ve tried not loving me,” Dean states and that’s all it is—a statement, an observation.

But she feels compelled to explain herself, “It’s not easy,” she tells him. “You’re… You’re you. You’re charming and hot and…” she’s spilled most of her guts, what harm can a little bit of spilling her heart do now? “You’re beautiful. You’ve got a different girl to take home every other night. It kills me inside, I won’t lie. It’s torture seeing you laughing with someone else. It really is. But it’s not your fault. And, I know you don’t feel the same way, and for a long time I didn’t mind this one sided affair cause, it was mine, you know? This love I had for you, it was all mine. I didn’t care if you loved me back… But then you…”

“Died,” he finishes the sentence for her.

She nods lamely. “It felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest. I don’t remember what I did when you weren’t around. I don’t remember how I survived because to me breathing was being in love with you. It’ll always be that. I just knew if I ever saw you again, I needed you to know how I felt. I’d been too selfish with my love for you. I… I don’t know. It sounds stupid now. I just needed you to know and I felt like I should tell you today so I did.”

And then the car stops again. 

She looks up and she’s standing in front of the boarding house. 

Clock’s run out.

Dean tries to say something but she doesn’t know if she has the courage to hear a placated, softly-worded rejection so she just gets out of the car. 

He follows suit.

He rushes to open the trunk and pulls out her luggage.

She takes it for him, and then begins walking to the door.

“Y/n!”

It feels like a gust of wind. 

The way he calls for her feels like the gust of wind that blows right before the lighting strikes.

She turns without hesitance. 

Their eyes lock.

He’s standing next to the driver side, the door to the impala is still open. The only thing lighting his face is a street light a couple paces behind him. Bathed in yellow, he looks like a wild field of sunflowers, with his messy blond hair and painfully green eyes. He’s absolutely breathtaking.

For all her talk of her love for Dean Winchester being like breathing, in this moment, at the sight of this man looking absolutely divine, she doesn’t think she remembers how to breathe at all.

So with bated breath, she waits for him to speak.

“Y/n…” He says again, before something changes and his eyes stop shining, his posture hardens, his hand grips the Impala’s door a little harder and his face loses color. Then he says, “We’ll pick you up Tuesday.” With that he gets back in the car and drives off. 

It’s only when they’ve crossed the Mystic Falls border does the silence in the Impala break.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam tells him. 

Find Part 2 here.

[sammrapp]

CHAPTER TWO: THE FORBIDDEN CRUSH

CHAPTER ONE HERE

The following week begins with a swirl of rumors and whispers, as if the tension between the Plastics and Janice and Damien has become the talk of the school. I do my best to keep my head down, focusing on my studies and trying to avoid the drama. But every time I see Regina, my heart flutters, a painful reminder of the secret I'm carrying around.

One day in the cafeteria, I see Regina sitting alone at the Plastics' table. The other girls are nowhere in sight. She's flipping through a magazine, her face uncharacteristically somber. I take a deep breath, gathering my courage, and walk over to her.

"Hey, Regina," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Can I sit with you?"

She looks up, a hint of surprise crossing her face. But then she smiles, a genuine smile that makes my heart pound even harder. "Sure, Sam."

I sit down across from her, setting my lunch tray on the table. We eat in silence for a while, neither of us knowing what to say. But then Regina breaks the silence.

"I heard about what happened," she says, her voice soft. "About you liking girls."

I freeze, my heart dropping into my stomach. "Who told you?" I whisper, too shocked to deny it.

"No one," she says quickly. "I just... I overheard something. And I put the pieces together."

I swallow hard, my mind racing. This is it. This is the moment I've been dreading. The moment when Regina finds out about my feelings and everything falls apart.

"But it's okay," she continues, her voice gentle. "I'm not upset. And I'm not going to tell anyone."

I blink in surprise, unable to believe what I'm hearing. "You're not?"

She shakes her head, a small smile on her face. "No. We all have our secrets, Sam. And it's none of my business who you like."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, relief washing over me. "Thank you, Regina," I say, my voice shaky with emotion. "That means a lot."

We finish our lunch in comfortable silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. As I get up to leave, Regina reaches out and touches my arm. "Sam," she says, her voice serious. "I meant what I said. I won't tell anyone. And I hope you won't either."

I nod, understanding her meaning. She's not just talking about my secret. She's talking about hers too. About the fact that the queen bee of North Shore High is more than just a mean girl. That she's capable of kindness and understanding.

As I walk away, I can't help but feel a sense of hope. Maybe things won't be so bad after all.

And maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to be honest with Regina about my feelings. But for now, I'll take things one step at a time.

Over the next few weeks, I find myself growing closer to Regina. We spend more time together, both in and out of school. We study together, go shopping together, and even hang out at each other's houses. I find myself falling for her even more, but I keep my feelings to myself, too scared to risk our friendship.

One day, after school, Regina invites me over to her house. We're sitting in her room, talking and laughing about nothing in particular. I can't help but stare at her, admiring her beauty. She catches me looking and raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her face.

"What?" she asks, her voice soft. "Do I have something on my face?"

I blush, quickly looking away. "No," I stammer. "I was just... thinking."

She leans back on her bed, propping herself up on her elbows. "About what?" she asks, her gaze intense.

I bite my lip, contemplating whether or not to tell her the truth. But I decide to lie. "Uh, school.. I'm failing math but Cady offered to tutor me, I'm just nervous I guess."

Regina sits up, her eyes widening in surprise. "Cady's tutoring you in math?" she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Now that's something I never thought I'd hear."

I laugh, the tension in the room easing. "Yeah, well, I guess there's a first time for everything."

Regina smiles, her eyes softening. "You're right," she says, her voice gentle. "And if it's any consolation, I think you and Cady will do just fine."

I nod, feeling a sense of relief. "Thanks, Regina."

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and conversation. As I leave Regina's house, I can't help but feel a sense of hope. Maybe things will work out after all. Maybe I can navigate the treacherous waters of high school without losing myself in the process.

And maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to be honest with Regina about my feelings. But for now, I'll take things one step at a time.

Over the next few weeks, I find myself growing even closer to Regina. We spend more time together, both in and out of school. Despite my fear of ruining our friendship, I can't help but fall for her even more. But I keep my feelings to myself, too scared to risk our friendship.

One day, during one of our study sessions, I find myself unable to focus. I keep stealing glances at Regina, admiring her beauty. She's so close, yet so far. It's torture.

Suddenly, Regina looks up, catching me staring. "Sam?" she asks, a hint of concern in her voice. "Is something wrong?"

I shake my head, quickly looking away. "No," I stammer, my cheeks burning. "I'm just... I'm just tired, I guess."

Regina raises an eyebrow, studying me. "You sure?" she asks, her voice soft. "You've been acting strange lately."

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "I'm fine," I insist, forcing a smile. "Really, I am."

Regina doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push. We sit in silence for a while longer the only sound being our scribbling against our notebooks.

After a while Regina tosses her books and pen and sighs as she throws herself back into the pillows. "I'm done with this."

I chuckle and shut my own notebook and toss it to the side.

-

"Me too," I admit, stretching my arms above my head. "I think my brain is fried."

She laughs, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "I bet. You've been working so hard lately."

I shrug, trying to act nonchalant. "I just want to do well, you know?"

She nods, her gaze soft. "I know," she says. "And for what it's worth, I think you're doing amazing."

A blush creeps up my cheeks at her words. "Thanks, Regina," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

We stay silent for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts. I can feel the tension in the room, thick and heavy. My heart is pounding in my chest, my mind racing with a million different thoughts. I know I should say something, do something. But I can't. I'm frozen.

Finally, Regina breaks the silence. "Sam," she says, her voice serious. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

I swallow hard, my throat feeling dry. "What do you mean?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

She shrugs, her gaze steady. "I don't know," she says. "You just seem...distracted. Like there's something on your mind."

I feel a knot forming in my stomach. She's too perceptive, too observant. I know I can't lie to her, but I'm not ready to tell her the truth either.

So, I do the only thing I can. I laugh it off, shaking my head. "You're imagining things," I say, forcing a smile. "I'm just tired, that's all."

Regina doesn't look convinced, but she drops the subject. We spend the rest of the evening talking about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other's company. I find myself falling for her even more, if that's even possible.

As I lay in bed that night, I can't help but replay the day's events in my mind. I know I can't keep my feelings to myself forever. Sooner or later, I'll have to tell Regina the truth.

But for now, I'll keep my secret. For now, I'll pretend that everything is fine. For now, I'll take things one step at a time. Because sometimes, that's all you can do.

[xoxochb]

Hey!! Can I request one with Jason and fem!reader maybe she had a bad day and went to see Jason and he comforts her and it's all cute please

— hoax

warnings: hurt/comfort + tons and tons of tooth rotting fluff!! pairing: jason grace x fem! reader a/n: this is for everyone who had a shitty day today like me

It started when you woke up late and missed breakfast and lunch. you had to scavenge for leftovers in the kitchen, even going as far as to asking the satyrs if they had stolen anything (they hadn’t— which was infuriating because usually they would have). you didn’t eat either meals today. then next at arts and crafts you hurt your finger with a hole puncher and had the be brought to the infirmary where you received stitches over your injury. then you couldn’t find your favorite strawberry chapstick and in a fit of ‘I’m not using cherry!’ you decided to leave your lips chapped (unfortunately you started peeling away at the dead skin until it started bleeding— you took your second visit to the infirmary after this)

then you found out that you had spilled paint all over your shirt and with your laundry not yet done all you had was an old shirt with a cringe saying written on the front of it. stupid luck, tyche would be hearing many complaints during your offerings at dinner (that is— if you even got to eat dinner!). the next thing that sent you into a frenzy was your siblings. noisy and constantly fighting. you thought it would be okay to read in your cabin for a while but the noise in there compared to outside was ten times worse. then you ran into a tree, how you even managed this was a mystery

now with your hair disheveled, a silly shirt with an inappropriate term splayed on the front, two injuries, and hot tears streaming uncontrollably down your face you knock on the door belonging to cabin one. although you were always welcomed in your boyfriend’s cabin the thought of walking in unannounced worried you. stupid anxiety, you should add that to your list of awful things that happened today. after five seconds you hear shuffling and the door opens in front of you. the sight of your blond boyfriend has you crumbling into his arms with a sob. jason is quick to return your embrace, one hand resting on your back while the other rests on your head, keeping your head against his chest

“come here, angel. come sit”

jason closes the door behind you and leads you to his bed, where you sit and curl yourself into him swiftly. he runs his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner— indeed soothing you

“do you want to talk about it?”

you sigh before saying, “just a bad day”

he frowns and places his lips to the top of your head. “poor girl. let it out, I’m here”

you indeed do. the held in emotions from the previous experiences from the terrible day you had pool out, soaking into jason’s shirt. when your tears slowed down a bit you begin to ramble about your day and the unruly events

“I woke up late and missed breakfast and lunch. then I cut my finger open with a hole puncher” you lift your pointer finger up to show jason, who kisses it gently. “and I lost my chapstick then I dropped paint all over my shirt so I had to change into this!” you grab at the fabric of your shirt and pull it up for him to see— displayed on it says, ‘reading is sexy’ “which apparently isn’t camp appropriate according to chiron. dionysus was fine with it though but again he’s fine with anything. then I was trying to read and my siblings kept fighting so I went out to the woods to read but I walked into a tree and then I just came here”

“you could’ve come over earlier y’know?”

“you were busy today. you told me yesterday”

“and you don’t think I would’ve dropped everything for you?”

you hide your head in his neck to hide the rising blood rushing to your cheeks. “can I sleep here tonight?”

“of course. we gotta get you something to eat though”

“after. I wanna stay here for a bit”

you lift your head up from jason’s neck, he takes this to his advantage and kisses your very chapped lips

“whatever you want”