#even though his best hasn’t been enough for others it never bothered him as much as the idea of it not being enough for sunny

[phatcatphergus]

Do you think that when tubbo came back and saw how much fun Sunny had with Fit, he immediately thought about how he could never be the father she deserves

[etherrreal]

"an inconvenient attachment"

Pairing: sae x fem!reader Genre: fluff with smut, fwb to lovers, minors dni! Summary: what you and sae have is completely casual— or at least it’s supposed to be. he’s fine with it at first, until he starts to realize how much he actually likes being around you. now he’s starting to wonder if casual is enough. WC: 20k+ (haha, i’m in danger) Warnings: nsfw, some pwp (mostly plot though), alcohol, casual/no strings sex (until it isn’t 😉), car sex, fingering, light choking, reader and sae are in their mid-20s, reader is also incredibly forward and kind of shameless lmao, pro!athlete sae, big time jealousy, misunderstandings, lots of pining but also lots of denial, sae being annoying and bad at feelings but also very much into you A/N: watched bluelock for the first time this past year and immediately fell victim to the itoshi brothers. consider this an ode to my suffering <3 -Dawn

Sae doesn’t really know what the two of you are to each other.

He knows you hate driving in the rain and love reading at the park, just like he knows how you take your coffee and what your voice sounds like when you first wake up in the morning, all sleepy and soft.

He also knows what you look like tangled in the sheets of his bed, just like he knows how to make you fall apart with his mouth and hands and tongue. He takes pleasure in leaving you bleary-eyed and breathless, in watching you grip at his sheets and drag your nails across his skin as you say his name again and again.

But when it comes to your current relationship, to what the two of you actually mean to each other? Sae has no idea. You’ve never bothered to put a label on it. He figures you’ve never felt the need to, even though normally you’re the kind of person who labels everything, from the colorful tabs in your planner to the glass containers in your pantry.

Not that Sae has any room to judge. He hasn’t made much of an effort to define things between you, either. He’s not one for titles or attachments, least of all romantic ones. He never has been, and that’s something he made clear to you from the beginning, long before the two of you ever shared a bed and started whatever the hell this thing is that exists between you now.

If he’s being honest, Sae didn’t really think much of you at first. He remembers meeting you, completely against his will, at a party he never wanted to attend in the first place, one that his teammates insisted on dragging him to.

In the beginning, you were just another face in the crowd, the best friend of Aina, Oliver’s notorious on-again, off-again girlfriend.

Sae never planned on seeing you again, much less actually getting to know you. In fact, he was fully content to forget you completely, but he couldn’t. And it wasn’t because he had a change of heart or because he was particularly interested in you, but because you made it practically impossible to ignore you.

You, with your ridiculous laugh and your know-it-all demeanor and your unreasonably animated way of talking. It’s no surprise that you were an instant hit amongst his teammates. They all took to you right away, captivated by your quick comebacks and witty humor, by your easy confidence and natural charm.

And though Sae will never say it out loud, he could admit, even back then, that he understood the appeal, at least in a general sense. You’re smart and funny, not to mention daring and lively, with the kind of effortless charisma that makes everyone want to be around you.

You laugh at his dry humor and unapologetic bluntness, but you also don’t hesitate to call him out when he’s being a dick. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re completely gorgeous, either, a vision in smooth satin and shimmery lip gloss whenever he sees you on nights when his teammates actually manage to bully him out of his apartment.

Soon you’re everywhere, laughing during game nights at Oliver’s place and rolling your eyes in the background of Shidou’s Instagram stories. Sae doesn’t accept their invitations to go out too often, but when he does, you’re always there, just as much a part of the group as everyone else is— even more than Sae is, most of the time.

You cheer him and the rest of the team on at games, send him new recipes to try and stupid videos he only sometimes replies to.

And inconveniently, inevitably, you start to grow on him.

Then one night, against his better judgment, he offers to drive you home from the bar, and to his surprise, you accept.

Sae’s not entirely sure why he does it. After all, it’s unlike him to inconvenience himself or go out of his way for the sake of others. But then he remembers the cheeky way you were acting with him earlier and decides it’s worth it, if only to see what you’ll do.

There’s always been a certain kind of tension between you and Sae, an unspoken chemistry neither of you has ever been able to replicate with anyone else. He’s never acted on it, of course. He’s never felt the need to, until now.

You’ve been flirting with him even more than usual tonight, brushing your hand against his arm and leaning in close to whisper in his ear. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

Sae has always appreciated how forward you are, how honest. You’re the kind of person who always speaks your mind, who never hesitates to go after what you want. It’s part of what makes him respect you so much.

It’s also why he doesn’t bother to stop you. Why he doesn’t push you away from him, no matter how close you get or how bold your hands become. It does something to him, he realizes, having you touch him so casually. Makes him possessive in a way he never expected he’d be over anyone, least of all you.

Still, he doesn’t take it as anything more than what it is. You’re always like this, all playful and coy, especially after you've had a shot or two. He knows better than to think it means anything. He takes it upon himself to drive you home anyway, the idea of you being so casual and touchy with any of his other teammates leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

You look unfairly beautiful sitting in the passenger seat of his car, all smooth skin and smokey eyes, jacket sliding halfway off your shoulders as you wave your hands around and tell a story he’s only half-listening to. You’re absolutely stunning and therefore annoyingly distracting, not that he’ll ever grant you the satisfaction of telling you that himself.

The lot behind your building is quiet when he pulls his car in, empty. You unbuckle your seatbelt and thank him for driving you home, but make no move to leave.

Sae notices but doesn’t call you out on it, dismissing your gratitude with his usual impassiveness. He also doesn’t stop you when you reach out to touch him. Your fingers brush against his collar, smoothing over the fabric on his shoulder.

He has makeup on his shirt, you tell him. It’s yours, of course, the shade of the smudge an identical match to the color staining your lips. It must’ve happened when you leaned in to talk to him earlier.

Sae isn’t surprised. You’re the only person he lets be that close to him, the only person he wants that close. And right now, you’re smiling like you already know, like you revel in it.

“Sorry about that,” you say, without an ounce of guilt in your voice, dragging your nail over the stain.

Sae watches the way you watch him, the way your eyes drift down to stare at his lips. There’s something wanting and possessive in your gaze, something he thinks has been there for a while now. “No, you’re not.”

“You’re right.” The laugh you give is shameless, your smile brazen as you move your hand from his shoulder to his chest, fingertips skimming against the buttons of his shirt. “I’m not.”

You kiss him, then, a heated and hungry thing as bold and unapologetic as you are. He surprises himself by letting you, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and dragging your bottom lip between his teeth, a calloused hand moving up to cradle your jaw.

Soon you’re kicking off your heels and shrugging off your jacket, tossing it blindly into the backseat and climbing over the center console. You settle into his lap like you belong there, straddling his thighs with your bare knees. He trails his lips along your throat and chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your heated skin and pulling down the front of your dress so he can reach more of you.

His hands push the skirt of your dress up and over your hips, palms smoothing over your skin, and you tug at his hair, pressing your body firmly against his. The movement is exactly what you both need, your hips grinding into his lap.

You both groan when the head of his cock catches against your clothed center. You roll your hips into his again, chasing the friction, his grip on your hips turning bruising.

Sae presses a hand between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, just enough to run a finger along your slit and gather the wetness there. He lets out a strained curse and drags his teeth along your throat when he feels how warm and wanting you already are, all because of him.

That’s all the convincing he needs to fuck you open with his fingers, while you grind yourself down against his hand, making breathy little sounds in his ear that he decides he wants to hear more of. You undo the buttons of his shirt and tear the material open, hands roaming over his chest as much as the limited space will allow.

It’s not long after that you decide you want more, undoing the button of his pants and yanking down his zipper with little restraint. He mutters something about you being an impatient brat under his breath, but he doesn't stop you.

Instead, he lets you pull his leaking cock out and wrap your hand around his shaft. He bites back a groan as you squeeze him at the base and move your hand up and down in slow, even strokes, smearing precum along the length of him.

You surge forward to kiss him again, and it’s all Sae can do to meet you halfway, curling his fingers inside of you and making you gasp against his lips. You cling to his shoulders and whisper into his ear, telling him how good he feels, how badly you want him inside of you— all of him, this time, not just his fingers.

Your words go straight to his already painfully hard cock, making him buck up into your hand and reach out blindly for the condoms he keeps in his car. You end up beating him to it, fumbling for only a moment before pulling one out of your purse and tearing the packet open with your teeth.

You don’t waste any more time after that, rolling the condom down over his length while Sae slips his fingers out of you and plants his hands on either side of your waist. You line him up with your entrance and sink yourself onto him with a gasp, hips pressing flush against his as you moan and dig your nails into his skin. He tightens his grip on your waist and muffles his own moan against your lips, the kiss he presses to your mouth all tongue and teeth.

You ride him, head thrown back and lips parted, while he leans back to watch you with half-lidded eyes, taking in the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock and pushing his hips up to meet yours.

You look absolutely breathtaking, hips rolling and circling as you gasp out his name and tell him how deep he is and how good he’s making you feel. One of his hands presses against your throat while the other squeezes at your hip, helping you lift yourself up and sink back down to take more of him.

With his lips mouthing at your neck and his thumb drifting down to rub circles into your clit, it isn’t long before you find yourself tipping over the edge. He follows you almost immediately after, spurred on by the scrape of your nails against his scalp and the tightening of your walls around him.

You’re both panting when it’s over, foreheads pressed together and hearts racing as you slump against one another and try to catch your breath. You recover faster than he does and press a parting kiss to his lips that feels almost too sweet after what you’ve just done, climbing off his lap and over the console on shaky legs.

You almost slip when you do, his hand shooting out to steady you at the last second. You laugh while he rolls his eyes and tells you to be more careful, keeping his hand on your hip until finally you settle back safely into the passenger seat.

You’re both quiet as you set to work on fixing your clothing and cleaning yourselves up, redoing zippers and clasping buttons in an effort to make yourselves look presentable again.

Sae finds himself grateful for the silence. It gives him the chance to process exactly what’s just happened between you, and —more importantly— to decide what’s going to happen after.

The sex was good, obviously. Better than good. The best he’s had in a while, maybe even the best he’s had ever— though he thinks he’d rather die than be caught saying any of that out loud. He imagines it must’ve been the same for you, if the way you moaned his name and fell apart around him are anything to go by.

Still, Sae knows himself, which is why he knows better than to allow it to mean anything. He doesn’t need a relationship right now, nor does he particularly want one. He likes you well enough, in a way that makes him view you as slightly less irritating than he does everyone else— but wanting you and wanting to be with you are two very different things.

And at this point in his life, Sae doesn’t want to actually be with anyone, not even you. He doesn’t have the time for it, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have the patience.

Sure, he’s dated before, but it was never anything serious. Never anything real. All of his previous relationships —if one could even call them that— were just for show, nothing more than publicity stunts orchestrated by his PR team with models and socialites he’s never really cared about.

Most of them understood the arrangement quite well, knowing it wouldn’t last. Some of them didn’t and tried to make it into something more, but it’s never worked. Sae’s never allowed it. As a result, he’s become an expert at shutting people down, at crushing their hopes of receiving anything more than what he’s willing to give them.

He tells you as much after you’re both dressed again, fully prepared to disappoint you and the hopes you’ve no doubt allowed to build freely inside your head. He’s not cruel enough to say it in a way that hurts you —at least not on purpose— but he wants to be honest. The last thing he needs is for you to get the wrong idea and start thinking that this is going to change anything between you.

“You should know,” he starts, serious and stoic as ever, “I’m not looking for a relationship. The only thing I’m interested in right now is soccer.”

He pauses, bracing himself for your reaction, for the moment when his words finally sink in and you realize that he has no intention of taking this any further. He watches your face carefully, mentally preparing himself for what he knows is going to be the inevitable fallout.

He’s spent enough time with you by now to know you’re not really the crying type, so he’s comfortable with knowing that he at least won’t see any tears. He does, however, expect some swearing on your part, maybe even a little bit of yelling, just enough to let him know that you think he’s an asshole.

To Sae’s surprise, none of that happens. There’s no anger, no confrontation, no fallout. Instead of shouting at him and telling him to go fuck himself, the way he initially expected you to, you smile at him and slip the straps of your dress back up over your shoulders, nodding like this is exactly what you were expecting, like you couldn’t agree more.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” you say, laughing lightly, casually, as you finish readjusting the rest of your clothing. “Your emotional unavailability kind of gave it away. Well, that and your apathy, though I’m starting to think the latter is less of a relationship deterrent and more of just you being yourself.”

You aren’t wrong, of course, but the bluntness of your words still makes him scowl, which in turn just makes you laugh even more.

“Hey, I never said I didn’t like it.” You slip your heels on your feet and lean down to secure the straps, though not before sending him a teasing grin from over your shoulder. “I’ll have you know, emotionally unavailable and apathetic is exactly my type. Helps if they have pretty eyes and great hair, too.”

Predictably, Sae ignores your blatant flirting in favor of rolling his eyes. Still, he doesn’t hesitate to help when he sees you struggling to retrieve your jacket from the backseat, reaching behind him to grab it and offering it to you with ease.

“Seems like an easy way to get yourself hurt,” he deadpans, before you get the chance to thank him.

“You’re such a pessimist, Sae.” You roll your eyes at his response, but the smile you give as you take your jacket from him is grateful and genuine. “My point is, if you’re worried about me reading into things, don’t be. I’m not expecting anything from you. If we’re being honest, I’m not really looking for anything serious right now, either.”

He knows you mean it —you’re too honest not to— but he raises an eyebrow at you, anyway, examining you carefully for even the slightest hint of doubt.

“So you’re really okay with things staying the same between us?”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t. But you have my number if you ever want to do this again.”

You gather the rest of your things before leaning over and pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. It’s light and offhanded, free of any pressure or expectations. Then you smile at him, lifting your hand to give a little wave.

“I’ll see you later, Sae.”

You leave his car with that smile still on your face and your purse in your hand. He watches you go, not taking his eyes off of you until you make it inside your building. You don’t turn back to look at him once.

And though he tries not to —though he likes to believe he’s above such baseless, lukewarm desires— he thinks about your offer on the way home.

It doesn’t take him long to make up his mind.

He texts you three days later. The messages are short and to the point —boring, he knows you’d call them— just a simple ’hey’ followed by a blunt ’wanna come over?’ that he regrets sending almost immediately after it goes through, mostly because he knows you’re never going to let him live it down.

You don’t disappoint, replying back a few minutes later with a ’damn already??’ and an ’it was that good huh 😏😌🤪’ that he pointedly ignores. He threatens to block you, you laugh at the message, and less than an hour later, you’re at his door.

This time, Sae’s the one who kisses you first, easing you onto his bed and pushing your thighs apart so he can slot himself between them. His lips trail down your neck, his teeth nipping at your throat. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your body and helping you slip out of your clothes until you’re completely bare beneath him.

He makes you cum twice with his mouth, another time with his fingers— and only then does he finally slide himself into you, hands gripping your thighs and chest pressing into yours.

Practice was cut short today in favor of a press conference Sae couldn’t have cared less about, so he has a lot of pent-up energy, which he immediately sets on using to throw your legs over his shoulders and thoroughly fuck you into his mattress.

You don’t complain about it, either, too lost in the pleasure of it all to scold him for the tight grip he has on your hips or the way he’s nearly folding you in half beneath him. You even make a joke about it afterwards, muttering something about how they should cancel his practices more often.

“But only on the weekends,” you add seriously, trying to catch your breath. “The last thing I need is my co-workers watching me wobble into my office because of it.”

Sae actually laughs, though he tries not to. You beam at the sound, only to end up flipping him off moments later, when you rise on trembling legs in search of your clothes and catch him smirking knowingly at you.

And it’s simple, he thinks, doing this with you. Simple and comfortable and not the least bit complicated, which is exactly how he likes it.

You must feel the same way, because the next time it happens, you’re the one who calls first, inviting him up to your apartment and latching your lips to his neck before he’s even fully through the door.

You never really talk about it, nor do you establish any real boundaries beyond that initial conversation you had that first night in his car, but Sae figures you don’t really need to. It goes without saying that this thing between you is completely casual, just a way to satisfy your physical needs and work off some stress whenever you both need it.

Neither of you wants an actual relationship, but that doesn’t mean you’re opposed to sleeping together every now and then, especially when the sex is as good as it’s been. So you keep at it, meeting up whenever you have some free time and fucking until you’ve both had your fill, all without ever expecting anything more.

Sae doesn’t tell anyone about your arrangement. Neither do you. You both agree it’s easier that way, in the name of keeping things smooth and uncomplicated.

He’s not ashamed of what the two of you are doing —he knows you aren’t, either— but neither one of you wants the headache of having to explain it to the well-intentioned but ultimately chronic meddlers you call your friends. So you keep it to yourselves, treating each other the same way you normally would without any extra consideration or kindness.

You both get really good at it, too, maintaining your composure no matter how many stupid and suggestive comments Shidou and Oliver make about the mystery girl he’s always texting, or how often Aina bugs you to show her a picture of the guy she swears has got you dickmatized.

Sae’s sure they have their suspicions, but he knows that he isn’t among them. As far as everyone else is concerned, you and him are just friends, even if you do have a habit of getting a little handsy whenever you think no one is looking.

It helps that you’ve been shamelessly flirting with him since the day you met, so no one ever bats an eye when they see you brushing your hand against his chest or leaning in close to whisper in his ear. Everyone just assumes that it’s you being your normal, bold and affectionate self, and that Sae —moody, stoic, emotionless Sae— will brush it off and ignore you the way he always does.

They have no idea that as soon as you’re alone, the exact opposite happens. That he’s trailing his lips along your neck and sliding his hands up your skirt, while you lock your legs around his waist and pull him in closer, the way you’ve been doing for weeks now.

Sae’s honestly a little surprised no one’s figured it out yet. More than that, though, he’s shocked that he’s still hooking up with you at all.

It’s not like him to stick with someone for so long, especially without his manager breathing down his neck to keep it up for the publicity. He thought your arrangement would last a week, maybe two weeks, tops— but here you both are, still going nearly two months later, with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

He was so sure he’d be bored of it by now, but he isn’t. He can’t be, not with you. You’re too good at distracting him. You’re even better at making him trust you.

And the more time he spends with you, the more he realizes just how easy it is to be around you.

The thing about Sae is that he’s never really been the kind of person who has a lot of friends. He has his teammates and his manager, his parents and sometimes his brother, but he’s never had someone who wasn’t obligated to be around him. Never someone who didn’t expect anything of him.

You, though— you spend time with him on purpose, not because of anything he can give you. Even if this thing between you ends tomorrow, Sae knows it wouldn’t change anything.

You’d still be there, still without expecting anything, because that’s just who you are. Because for some odd reason, you actually like being around him, despite his attitude and his indifference, despite all the things his teammates and the media are always giving him shit for.

He thinks you’ve always liked being around him, even before you started sleeping together. He knows he doesn’t make it easy, but you’re patient with him despite that, giving him space when he needs it and pushing him when he doesn’t.

And he’ll never say it out loud, but the truth is, he likes being around you, too. Almost enough to make him forget that this thing you have is only temporary.

Almost.

The first time you stay the night happens a week later.

You’re both in his bed, all bare skin and tangled sheets as you come down from your respective highs and try to catch your breath. Outside his penthouse, the rain drones on, quieting the city below you into a nearly imperceptible hum.

It’s well past midnight, so late that it’s early, and sure, Sae might be an asshole— but he’s not cruel enough to make you drive home in the rain, especially when he knows how much you hate it.

“You can sleep here if you want,” he says, without thinking much of it, right as you sit up to start looking for your clothes.

Understandably, the offer catches you off guard. Even in the dark, Sae can see the way you turn back and blink owlishly at him, eyebrows raised, like it’s the last thing you expected him to say.

It’s kind of annoying, honestly, the way you’re looking at him right now. He knows he’s far from being the most considerate person in your life, but the way you’re gawking at him like he’s grown a second head feels a little dramatic.

Not that he can really blame you for being surprised. You’ve been hooking up almost daily for two months now, but not once during that time have either of you ever spent the night at the other’s place.

Something about it feels different. More intimate, somehow, like it’s crossing a line that’s supposed to be there, if only the two of you had bothered to draw it in the first place.

Sae realizes it at the same time you do and finds himself regretting making the offer at all. He’s accepted the fact that the two of you are friends —albeit begrudgingly— but the last thing he wants is for you to think he meant anything by it.

“Or don’t,” he adds quickly, careful to keep his tone as blank and detached as possible. “It’s up to you. I don’t really care either way.”

From the corner of his eye, he watches you spare a glance at the window. The rain is still going, pouring unforgivingly against the glass, and it only seems to be getting worse.

The rumble of thunder that follows shortly after is enough to convince you to accept his offer. You shrug, murmuring a quiet thanks before laying back down and making yourself comfortable next to him.

Predictably, he says nothing in response to your gratitude. He moves over to give you some space and lets you tuck yourself back under the blanket, shutting his eyes as he settles onto his back.

When he feels your gaze on him moments later, he frowns, cracking an eye open to look at you. Sure enough, you’re staring right at him, a knowing, borderline smug smile on your face that lets him know you’re going to be completely insufferable about this.

“Don’t,” he warns, before you can even get a word out.

You have the audacity to look offended. “Wha— I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“Didn’t have to. Your face is saying plenty.”

He throws an arm over his eyes and does his best to ignore you, hoping you’ll get bored enough with his inattention to let the whole thing go.

(You don’t, of course, but he supposes you wouldn’t be you if you did.)

In the end, it’s Sae who gives in first, uncovering his eyes against his better judgment and turning to face you with a scowl.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you’re quick to reply, even as that smug little smile of yours curls into a grin. “I’m just— I’m surprised you offered to let me stay, is all. It’s not what I was expecting.”

“Yeah, well, it was either that or wake up tomorrow to a ten-minute voice note complaining about how shitty your drive home was and how close you were to death.” He turns on his side, shifting so he can face you fully. “I figured if I was going to be annoyed anyway, I might as well get it out of the way now.”

That earns him a smack to the shoulder, along with a scowl meant to convey how unamused you are with his words. He can only hope you’re too busy rolling your eyes to catch the way the corners of his lips twitch upwards, barely suppressing a smile.

“You’re a dick. And for the record, if I did decide to grace you with one of my exciting and wonderfully detailed voice notes, it would’ve been five, maybe six minutes, max.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing you, and you sigh in defeat, relenting.

“Okay, fine, six and a half, but can you blame me? I hate driving in the rain. It’s scary and disorienting, and I always get paranoid that I’m gonna—”

“Spin out and end up on the side of the road,” Sae says, at the exact same time you do, making your eyes widen. “I know. I remember.”

And the crazy part is, he does. He remembers because he knows you, probably better than he knows anybody else, and it’s only now when he’s lying here with you, practically nose-to-nose in the dark, that he realizes just how much.

He’s not sure how or when it happened, but it did. And now, he knows you. He really, really knows you, enough to accept your good-natured teasing and playful smugness, enough to consider your comfort and offer you a place in his bed.

And honestly? He has no idea how the hell he’s supposed to feel about that, so he ignores it entirely, the same way he ignored how his stomach fluttered and his chest warmed when you showed up with a bag of groceries and made him dinner earlier, for no discernable reason other than the fact that you wanted to spend time with him.

His only consolation is that you seem to be as surprised by it as he is. He watches as you blink at him in the dark, wide-eyed and a little stunned, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

Then you smile at him, soft and sweet, and Sae feels something in his stomach shift all over again, something warm and unfamiliar he can’t name and honestly doesn’t think he wants to.

“And here I thought sleepovers were against our unofficial rules,” you tease, nudging his leg with your own. “You getting soft on me, Itoshi?”

“You wish,” he denies, scoffing for good measure. “This is a one-time thing. I’ll be back to my usual asshole self in the morning.”

“Bummer.” You nuzzle your face into the pillow beneath your head, stifling a yawn that betrays how tired you really are. “I kind of like you like this.”

“You like me naked and annoyed?”

“No, dummy. I meant sweet and concerned. It’s a surprisingly good look on you. A rare one, but a good one.” You close your eyes, lips curling into a playful smile. “Naked’s a pretty close second, though.”

In response, he flicks your forehead with his thumb and forefinger. You make a noise of protest but keep your eyes shut, swatting blindly at his hand, and for that, he finds himself grateful. He doesn’t think he’ll ever live it down if you catch the way his lips twitch into a smile.

“Just shut up and go to sleep, you little pervert.”

For once, you actually listen to him, bidding him a drowsy “goodnight” and knocking out almost immediately after. He falls asleep not long after you do, drifting off to the sound of your steady breathing and the patter of midnight rain.

Sae wakes before you the next morning, and the first thing he notices is how much closer you are to him now than when you fell asleep.

He’s not sure how it happened, but it seems that somehow over the course of the night, you’ve managed to curl yourself into his side. Now, your head is resting comfortably on his chest, your hand splayed against the muscles of his abdomen.

Sae wishes he could blame the new and compromising position solely on you, but sadly he can’t. At least not when he looks down and finds that his own traitorous arm has wrapped itself around your waist to keep you pressed against him, one of his legs tangled with yours.

It’s cuddly and intimate and most definitely against the unofficial rules of your arrangement, but still, he can’t find it in himself to wake you. He doesn’t shove you off, either, even though he knows he should, half because he thinks he’d rather die than talk to you about this and half because he doesn’t hate it nearly as much as he thought it would.

You’re pretty like this, Sae thinks distantly, completely unprovoked. You always are, but you’re softer when you’re asleep, more relaxed. It’s different from the version of you he’s used to, the one that’s loud and a little bit unruly, who talks a mile a minute and knocks back caffeine like it’s water because she always has a million different things to do.

He never imagined he’d get the chance to see you like this, all delicate and vulnerable. He never imagined he would want to, or that looking at you would make him feel this way, warm and fond and ridiculous. Human, too, in the way he so often likes to forget he is.

He spends longer than he should taking in the curve of your lips, the slope of your cheek. He untangles himself from you as carefully as he can manage and forces himself out of bed before he does something really stupid, like brush your hair out of your face or swipe his thumb against your cheek.

Sae takes a cold shower and runs through what’s left of his morning routine, willing all the strange thoughts he’s having about you to disappear.

It works for the most part, until you come padding into the kitchen and join him at the counter like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You’re bare-faced and sleepy, dressed in one of his t-shirts and the sweatpants he let you borrow last night, glasses perched on the bridge of your nose and your hair pulled up and away from your face. He thinks fleetingly that it’s the cutest you’ve ever looked, which is not only ridiculous but also so unlike him that he has to resist the urge to vomit right then and there.

Somehow he manages, handing you a cup of steaming coffee as soon as you approach. You take it from him without hesitation, accepting the drink with a grateful smile and murmuring a quiet good morning.

If you’re surprised by the gesture, you don’t show it, too busy sipping gingerly at your coffee and letting it wake you up. Then you’re launching into your usual upbeat chatter, this time about your job and the co-worker who you swear you’re one “as per my last email” away from fist-fighting in the conference room.

It’s normal enough to distract him, allowing him to push away the memory of how you woke up this morning and all the sappy shit he’s been thinking about you as a result.

He almost forgets about it entirely, until later that night when he slips into bed and catches the scent of your shampoo on his pillow.

That’s when his mind begins to drift, completely against his will. He starts remembering all sorts of unwelcome things, like the weight of you in his arms, the curve of your lashes against your cheek, how tempted he was to brush your hair out of your face and pull you closer—

Sae huffs and flips the pillow over, somewhere between confused and annoyed, though whether it’s with you or himself, he isn’t sure.

He turns around and closes his eyes, forcing himself to sleep, but the thought of you lingers.

It’s Aina —and, by default, Oliver— who finds out first.

It happens on a Saturday morning, nearly four months into your arrangement with Sae. Aina shows up at your apartment completely unannounced, with a tray of coffee and a surprisingly dutiful Oliver in tow, carrying the rest of the bags. (Apparently, it’s an on-week for them.)

They mean to surprise you with breakfast, hoping to convince you over french toast and scrambled eggs to put a pause on your ‘no relationships allowed’ policy and agree to a double date with one of his teammates.

One could only imagine their surprise when they find you standing in your entryway with an entirely different teammate, one who apparently already has access to sleepover privileges. And with Sae in his clothes from the night before and you in your robe and absolutely nothing else, it isn’t hard for them to put two and two together and realize what you’ve been up to.

The silence that follows their discovery is the loudest Sae thinks he’s ever heard in his life. There’s an uncomfortably long moment where the four of you just stand there and stare at each other, not saying a single word.

Aina is the first to react, letting out an Oscar-worthy gasp loud enough to alert your neighbors. Her eyes go wide, jaw dropping as her gaze jumps back and forth between you and Sae, like her brain can’t fully make sense of what she’s seeing.

“Holy shit.”

Oliver, on the other hand, appears to be having the time of his life, leering at the two of you with the largest and most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen on his face, like this is the best news he’s heard all week.

“No fucking way,” he says, two-toned eyes darting between you and Sae wickedly, before settling on you once more. “You bagged Itoshi?”

It’s a pretty spot-on assumption, Sae thinks, even if the way Oliver says it is stupid and irritating as hell. You are the one who approached him first, as well as the one who initiated things that first night you slept together. Not that it’s anyone else’s business, anyway, least of all nosy-ass Oliver’s.

You and Sae exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between you. It’s a testament to how familiar you’ve grown with one another over the past few months, where just one look is enough for the two of you to get an idea of what the other is thinking.

Having two of the loudest people you know find out you’ve been sleeping together isn’t ideal —neither Aina nor Oliver is exactly known for their subtlety— but it’s not the end of the world.

The two of you agreed to keep things quiet because you wanted your privacy, not because you’re ashamed of what you’ve been doing, so telling them won’t change much, as long as they don’t make it a big deal.

And besides, it’s not like you’re in any position to deny it, not when they’ve caught you red-handed.

Still, Aina and Oliver are more your friends than they are Sae’s, so he has no problem with you taking the lead on this one, which he attempts to communicate with a subtle nod of his head.

Thankfully, you seem to understand exactly what he means, clearing your throat and drawing all eyes back to you.

You pointedly ignore Oliver and his devilish smirk in favor of focusing on your best friend, who seems to be short-circuiting in light of the new information that’s been presented to her today. You take it all in stride, wielding that same easy confidence that Sae’s always admired in you, and nod at the tray she’s carrying.

“Is that iced coffee for me?”

Aina, for her part, still appears to be at a loss for words, but she makes an effort to answer you all the same, a confused but otherwise affirmative sound leaving her lips in response. You smile, reaching out to pluck the drink from its tray.

“Cool. Thanks.” You take a sip of your coffee before returning your attention to the midfielder beside you, offering him a warm smile and a parting wave. “Bye, Sae.”

It’s an easy out, of course, one that Sae is quick to accept, nodding at you and the stunned couple across from you before taking his leave.

The last thing he hears before your door shuts is the sound of Aina’s voice, baffled and utterly disbelieving as it rings out into your apartment.

“You’ve been fucking Itoshi Sae?!”

Her astonishment is a sentiment that carries over into the texts she sends you that same night, complete with various emojis and an assortment of reaction images she hopes will reflect her lingering shock. Oliver isn’t far behind her, though the texts he sends you are more teasing than anything else.

Still, they’re both strangely supportive about the whole thing. They even promise to keep what they’ve learned to themselves, though they still can’t quite believe it.

You show the texts to Sae the next time you’re at his place, letting him read them over your shoulder as the two of you lounge together in his bed, your back against his chest and his arm wound loosely around your waist.

The reaction images are sadly lost on him —Sae, as it turns out, really only cares about soccer, which means he has the social media literacy of a 70-year-old man— but he’s able to catch the gist.

You laugh about it together anyway, though for him it’s more of a little hum, followed by that tiny amused smirk you’re seeing more and more of every day.

“Did they seriously congratulate you for sleeping with me?”

“Yup. It’s a big deal, according to them. They’re both very proud of me.” You lock your phone and set it gently on his nightstand, twisting in his arms to face him with a teasing grin. “Apparently, I’m hooking up with the hottest midfielder in the league.”

He brushes off the comment at first, the way he seems to do with all of your obvious flirting, but he doesn’t stop you when you lift your leg and hike it over his hip.

And maybe it’s because he’s tired from practice, or maybe it’s because being around you relaxes him in a way he isn’t used to— but he ends up pulling you closer, palm smoothing over your skin and tracing a path up your leg.

“Well,” he mutters, hand squeezing appreciatively at your thigh, “it’s not like they’re wrong.”

“I dunno…” You let your voice trail off, fingertips skimming down his chest as you pretend to think about it. “I mean, ‘hottest midfielder’ is a really big title, and from what I’ve seen, your brother’s pretty hot, too.”

“My brother’s a striker, dumbass.”

“Even better. Think you can put in a good word for me?”

He shoots you a flat look, unimpressed by your joke, while you grin at him and crack up like you're the funniest person in the world. You’re still laughing when he reaches behind his head for a pillow and smacks you right in the face with it, squeaking out a “hey, wait, I’m kidding— I’m kidding!” between bursts of laughter.

And it’s ridiculous, Sae thinks, how easily the sound of your laugh softens him, how quickly it makes him forget about ever being annoyed. It shouldn’t, but it does, and right now he’s trying very hard not to think about what that might mean.

So he pushes it down and ignores it, the same way he’s forced himself to ignore how comfortable he’s gotten with you these past few months, hooking his hand behind your knee and rolling you both over so you’re laying on your back with him hovering above you.

He kisses you, then, deep and wanting in the way he knows you like, the one that leaves you breathless, half to distract himself and half because he wants to. You welcome him eagerly the way you always do, hooking your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair in an effort to bring him closer to you.

He breaks the kiss before it can go any further, drawing back just enough so that his lips are hovering above your own. You open your eyes, pupils blown out with desire, blinking at him expectantly as you wait for him to kiss you again.

When he doesn’t, you move for him, leaning up to press your lips back against his. He moves just out of reach at the last second, leaving you with a crease in your forehead and a pout on your lips that’s almost cute enough for him to give you what you want. Almost.

But Sae, as you’ve both learned, has a bit of a possessive streak. And while he’s already forgiven you for your earlier teasing, he hasn’t forgotten. And he intends, in true egoist fashion, to have the last word, even if it means having to stave off his own desires for a bit.

“You still interested in my brother?” he asks, and it’s pointed, goading. Probably the closest he’ll get to admitting how utterly disinterested he is in sharing you with anyone else.

“Wait, you have a brother?” You widen your eyes and pretend to be shocked, batting your lashes innocently before shaking your head. “Never heard of him.”

“Idiot,” he tells you, quiet, fond. Affectionate, too, if you’d listen closely enough. If he’d let you.

You merely laugh in response, bright and airy, before wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down to you. This time, he doesn’t pull away, leaning down to kiss you and feeling your smile against his lips.

It’s not long after that your kisses turn heated and wanting, his tongue and lips tracing a path down your neck and over your breasts. He takes one nipple into his mouth and rolls the other between his thumb and index finger, your nails digging into his back as you moan, pretty and breathless into his ear.

One of the perks of your arrangement lasting so long is that it’s made Sae somewhat of an expert at taking you apart. He knows exactly how to make you feel good, knows your body and all of its little tells, all the ways you like to be touched.

It doesn’t take much for him to have you desperate and keening, just his tongue at your clit and his fingers deep in your cunt, curling against the spot that makes your eyes roll back.

Soon you’re pulling at his hair, your arousal dripping down his wrist and chin as you whine at him to fuck you, all trembling thighs and breathy whimpers. He obliges, half because you’re practically begging for it and half because he wants you so much, it’s starting to make him dizzy.

It’s not always like this. Most nights Sae prefers taking his time with you. He gets off on seeing how needy you get, how much he can make you want him. You never beg for anything, never want for anything from anyone else until you’re here, desperate and panting beneath him.

He likes seeing you that way. He likes being the one you seek out to give it to you even more.

Tonight, though, it’s different. He’s not sure what triggered it, but suddenly he can’t stop touching you, can’t stop thinking about you and how much he wants you. He’s always attentive, but right now he feels greedy, impatient. Wild in a way he isn’t used to. He kisses you, and it’s hungry, deliberate, like he has something to prove.

He helps you to your knees and fucks you with his hands at your hips and his chest at your back, hard and deep the way he knows you like. He makes you cum with your cheek pressed into the mattress and your hands digging into the sheets, and then he flips you over and pushes your knees to your chest, sliding back into you.

He makes you cum like that, too, with his name on your lips and your hands laced with his own, pinned above your head— once, twice more until he’s had his fill and begins chasing his own release, his face pressed against your neck as he finally lets go and falls apart inside of you.

You shower together afterwards, all slow kisses and languid touches as you stand beneath the warmth of his stupidly expensive shower head. It’s softer than it should be, too soft to be considered casual.

Sae knows it, too, just like he knows he should quit while he’s ahead and pull away from you before it’s too late, but he can’t, not when the scrape of your nails against his scalp as you lave shampoo through his hair feels as good as it does.

You exit the shower looking clean and refreshed, hair damp and skin glowing as you towel yourself off. You smell just like him, the scent of his body wash clinging to your skin.

It does something stupid to his brain, knowing that. Makes his ears red and his heart race in a way he immediately tries to bury. For some reason, this time it’s harder to do.

You get dressed in his bedroom and pack your bag. You tell him you have a big meeting at work tomorrow, so you can’t spend the night. You stay for dinner anyway, letting him treat you to takeout from your favorite restaurant.

The two of you sit on his couch and enjoy your meal together. As usual, you’re the one who provides most of the conversation, Sae preferring to nod along and listen, interjecting every now and then with a surprisingly thoughtful question or a sly comment that has you elbowing him in the side.

With takeout boxes littering his coffee table and a movie you’ve both already seen playing idly in the background, his apartment feels more lived in now than it ever has before, the way it always does whenever you come over. Sae does his very best to ignore how normal it all seems, how easily your knee presses against his as you sit beside him on the couch.

When it’s time for you to leave, he walks you to the door. You thank him again for dinner and smile when he brushes you off, reminding you to text him when you get home.

Then you kiss him goodbye and he lets you, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like it isn’t a big deal, even though you both know it is.

And though he knows he shouldn’t, though he knows he’s better off pushing it down and ignoring it, the way he’s gotten so good at lately— he thinks about it for the rest of the night.

Things get a little blurrier after that.

It starts slowly, at first. An extra toothbrush by his sink, your hair ties on his nightstand. Little pieces of you scattered across his apartment that reveal just how intertwined your lives have become, even if neither of you wants to admit it.

He gets into the habit of picking you up from work. Starts showing up at your door with a bottle of wine and your favorite comfort snacks whenever he knows you’ve had a shitty week. There’s a shelf in his bathroom set aside just for you, stocked with moisturizer, cleanser, and face masks he lets you slather on his skin every now and then, on nights when he’s feeling particularly indulgent.

Your place is just as bad, if not worse. There’s protein powder in your pantry now, his hoodies hung up comfortably in your closet.

You drive him to practice when you have some free time and send him voice notes when you don’t, ones he makes a fuss about but always listens to. And whenever he has a game, you’re the first person who Facetimes him in the morning, wishing him luck and letting him know how excited you are to watch him win.

These days, you’re together more often than you’re apart. Sometimes he invites you over, and you don’t even have sex at all— you just hang out in his apartment and tell him about your day, resting your feet in his lap while his hands roam up and down your calves, and it feels like enough. Having you there feels like enough.

It gets to the point that whenever Shidou or Oliver want to reach him, they call you instead, knowing that Sae will be with you, the way he always seems to be now. It’s so humbling that for a single, horrifying moment, he considers cutting you off completely.

But Sae knows, even before the thought forms in his mind, that he won’t be able to go through with it. You’re too important to him now, too familiar. You’re his best friend, and as confusing and annoying as his thoughts about you have become, he can’t stay away from you.

He doesn’t even realize how bad he’s got it until another two months later, on the night of your birthday, when a conversation with Oliver forces him to confront the feelings he’s usually a lot better at ignoring.

The evening itself starts off normally enough. Sae spends most of it on the field with his team, in preparation for a rivalry game that’s less than a week away. The other players leave as soon as their coach dismisses them, eager to hit the showers and get some rest, but Sae stays behind for some extra practice.

He’s still at it by the time Oliver returns from the locker room. The centerback looks surprised to see that Sae’s still there, but he doesn’t hesitate to approach, joining his teammate out on the pitch.

“Figures you’d be the last one on the field,” Oliver says, greeting him with his signature sleazy smile. “You trying to make the rest of us look bad, Itoshi?”

Sae barely spares him a glance, choosing instead to focus on the row of soccer balls lined up at his feet. “I’ve never had to try to do that.”

Anyone else would be insulted, but Oliver just laughs, too used to Sae’s attitude to take it personally. “Why’re you still out here, anyway? It’s your girl’s birthday tonight. Shouldn’t you be back at your place getting ready?”

You’re not his girl, obviously, but correcting Oliver would be more trouble than it’s worth, so Sae doesn’t bother. “Why would I do that?”

“Oh, come on, man. No one’s that much of an asshole, not even you. Aren’t you coming to her party?”

Sae knows all about your party, of course. You invited him a while ago, though you made it clear it was a no pressure invitation. You knew he had that game coming up and that parties —especially the over the top and extravagant kind planned by Aina— aren’t really his thing, so you’d understand if he didn’t attend.

You’ve always been like that. Always more considerate than he or anyone else deserves. He picked up a present for you anyway, a simple necklace with a diamond sun pendant that made him think of you.

He planned to give it to you next week. Figured it would more than make up for his absence tonight, especially when he knows you’ll be busy with your friends. He’ll be shocked if you even notice he isn’t there, which is why he doesn’t feel the least bit guilty about sitting this one out.

“I’m not going,” Sae states plainly, kicking the ball at his feet and watching it land in the goal. “She said I didn’t have to.”

“Well yeah, that sounds like her, but don’t you want to? It’d be a fun way to surprise her,” Oliver points out, as if Sae really needs the reminder. “Hell, even I’m going, and she only tolerates me.”

“She knows I’m busy.” Another kick, another goal. Sae lifts the bottom of his shirt and wipes at the sweat on his face, unmoved. “She’ll be fine.”

“Damn.” Oliver whistles and crosses his arms over his chest, somewhere between incredulous and impressed. “And here I thought the two of you were finally getting serious. Shidou’ll be thrilled you’re back on the market. Adrian, too— though for different reasons.”

That catches Sae’s attention. He pauses before his next kick and shifts his gaze to where Oliver stands, narrowing his eyes.

He isn’t sure what his teammate is suggesting here, but he already doesn’t like it.

“Am I supposed to care about who that is?”

“You tell me. See, from what I hear, he’s your girl’s— my bad, I mean your not-girl’s ex. Apparently they ended on pretty good terms. Aina told me he’ll be there tonight, along with the rest of their friends.”

Oliver waits for a moment, letting his words sink in, before he grins knowingly, mismatched eyes smug and goading.

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t care, huh?”

Sae feels himself frown, eyes narrowing into a glare as something heavy and bitter settles over his chest. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, too, one that makes his stomach twist with discomfort.

You’ve never mentioned Adrian before. You’ve never mentioned any of your exes before, at least not to Sae, and why would you?

Contrary to popular belief, Sae’s not your boyfriend. He’s not even someone you’re officially dating. He’s just a friend you fuck regularly and hang out with after, even if it has been going on for way too long to be considered casual.

The point is, who you choose to spend your time with, romantically or otherwise, is none of his business, because you never agreed to be exclusive. And it’s not like he cares if you’re seeing other people, anyway, because he doesn’t. He doesn’t care.

He’s just a little annoyed by it, is all. Just a little irritated by the fact that Oliver would waste his time by bringing it up now, even though he knows Sae has more important things on his mind, like the upcoming game everyone else seems to be forgetting about.

That’s what Sae tells himself, anyway. What he reminds himself of even after Oliver says goodbye and heads off to get ready, leaving him alone on the pitch with nothing but his thoughts.

He repeats it inside of his head, over and over again, telling himself that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t care— even as the next ball he kicks misses, ricocheting off the goalpost.

So what if you’re seeing the ex you never mentioned tonight? And so what if the two of you ended on good enough terms for you to feel comfortable inviting him to your party? It’s your birthday, and you’re allowed to spend it with whoever you want.

Sae knows that, just like he knows you don’t owe him anything, least of all an explanation. And he doesn’t care— he doesn’t. He shouldn’t, because if he did, well— then that would mean he cares about you, maybe even has actual feelings for you, and that just wouldn’t make any sense, would it?

Because Sae doesn’t do this kind of thing. He doesn’t do feelings, or relationships, or anything else that puts him at risk of being vulnerable. He isn’t made for it. He never has been.

But then he thinks of you. Of your smile and your enthusiasm, of your quick comebacks and your laugh that turns into a snort whenever you think something is especially funny.

He thinks about the first time you spent the night at his place. He remembers waking up with you after and how easy it felt to hold you, how right.

You are thoughtful in a way that Sae is not, light-hearted and optimistic in a way he knows he’ll never be. You’re smart, too, smarter than anyone else he knows and more sensitive than you like to admit.

You’re stubborn to a fault, you hate admitting when you’re wrong, and you wouldn’t know how to relax even if someone paid you— but Sae can’t think of anything he’d like to do more than spend his time trying to keep up with you.

It hits him, then. The truth he’s spent the past few months trying to deny. All those sappy thoughts he’s had about you, the comfort and ease that settle over him whenever he’s around you— it’s not just because he likes spending time with you, or because he considers you a close friend.

It’s because he has feelings for you. Real, genuine feelings that he can’t ignore, at least not anymore.

It’s why hearing about your ex distracts him enough to make him miss the goal. Why the thought of you with someone else makes him feel sick to his stomach. And as much as Sae hates being vulnerable and honest about his feelings, he thinks he hates the idea of you cozying up to your ex even more.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about it yet, or what he’s going to say to you— but what he does know is that he can’t do it here, so he picks up his bag and leaves the field.

An hour later, he’s in his car and driving up to the lounge where Aina’s hosting your party, freshly showered and handing his keys over to the valet. The necklace he picked out for you rests inside the pocket of his jacket, tucked securely against his side.

It’ll pair nicely with his confession, he thinks, if he can find the words. If his logic will allow it.

Inside the lounge, it doesn’t take him long to find you. You’re exactly where he thought you’d be, smack dab in the middle of the dance floor, swaying your hips and singing your heart out with Aina and the rest of your friends at your side.

You look incredible, all smooth skin and glittery eyes, dressed in something soft and lacey he can’t wait to help you out of. You’ve always been beautiful, but here beneath the warm lights with your hair framing your face and your lips curled into that alluring smile, you’re easily the most stunning thing he’s ever seen.

Sae spends longer than he probably should just looking at you, watching you laugh and dance out on the floor, spurred on by the music and the enthusiastic cheers of your friends. He finds himself smiling before he can really help it, tender and fond in the way only you ever seem to make him.

You do a bit of a double take when you spot him, craning your neck past Aina’s head to get a better view. He sends you a short nod as a form of greeting, and you return it with an excited wave of your own, excusing yourself from your friends to join him where he stands at the edge of the crowd.

You smile as you approach, a little breathless from all the dancing, but still so beautiful. You look happy that he’s here, but you’re surprised, too, eyes wide, like he’s the last person you expected to see.

“Sae? What are you doing here?”

It’s a fair question, considering the fact that the last time you spoke, he told you he couldn’t make it, but he raises an eyebrow anyway, like he can’t believe you’d ask. “You invited me, remember?”

“Well, yeah, I did, but I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you say honestly, laughing a little. “I thought you were busy.”

“I was. Now I’m not.” When your eyes widen even more, your surprise giving way to disbelief, Sae’s eyebrows furrow. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

“That you’re choosing to spend your free time surrounded by everyone I know getting drunk off their asses? Kind of, yeah.” You reach out and smooth your hands over his chest, tugging at the lapels of his jacket to tease him. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

And Sae, too sure of his feelings to deny it, but too stubborn to agree, merely sighs, though he does nothing to move your hands away. “Look, if you want me to leave—”

“And rob me and the rest of my friends of the opportunity to ogle you in a button-down? On my birthday?” You put a hand over your heart and shake your head, looking scandalized. “That’s so disrespectful, not to mention selfish. I’m honestly offended that you even suggested it.”

He rolls his eyes, muttering something about you being the most dramatic person in the world, and you start to laugh, lips curling into that lovely little smile that lately he can’t stop thinking about.

Then you take his hand, sliding your fingers through his in a way that feels a lot more significant now that he knows he has feelings for you, and Sae feels something in his chest shift all over again, his pulse quickening beneath his skin.

“Come on,” you tell him, tugging on his hand to guide him forward, completely unaware of the effect you have on him. “I’ll get you a drink.”

You lead him to the bar and prop yourself up on one of the stools. Sae takes a seat beside you and watches as you order two cocktails— something simple for him and something sweet for yourself. The bartender makes quick work of your drinks, setting them down in front of you in record time and leaving you and Sae to chat.

“How was practice?”

“Same as always. How’s your party?”

“It’s been a lot of fun, actually. Aina really outdid herself. I’m thankful, even if it is forcing me to accept the sad reality that I’m basically a grandma now.” You let out a wistful sigh, stirring your drink with your straw. “When I was in college, I used to knock back tequila like it was water. Now it just kind of burns.”

That has him letting out an actual laugh, quiet but genuine, though he attempts to cover it up by reaching for his drink. You notice anyway and beam at the sound, unreasonably pleased with yourself, the way you always are whenever you manage to make him laugh.

He thinks of telling you that you’re the only one who can, the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do so. But the bar is rowdy and the music’s too loud, so he keeps it to himself, taking a sip of his drink and watching you do the same.

You chat for a while longer, catching each other up on all that you’ve missed in the week since you last saw one another. He tells you about the trip he took to the beach and the clothing sponsorship his manager won’t shut up about, and you tell him about the new pastry shop you tried and the comically large fruit bouquet your parents had delivered to your doorstep this morning.

And it’s easy, Sae thinks, talking to you like this. He’s never been a fan of parties, but sitting here with you, listening to your voice and hearing you laugh, it isn’t so bad.

He spent most of the drive here thinking of you and coming to terms with his feelings for you. These past few months have been filled with nothing but denial on his part, with Sae doing everything in his power to convince himself that he only saw you as the friend he was casually hooking up with, despite every one of his thoughts and actions proving otherwise.

But on the drive here, when he finally sat down to think about it, he found that what he feels for you was strangely easy for him to accept, despite the initial shock of it all.

Sae’s never been one for romance or relationships. He’s never imagined that’d be something he’d want, but looking at you now and wanting you the way he does, he knows it’s true. If he has to have feelings for anyone, he figures it might as well be you.

You, with all your sarcasm and your compassion and that soft little smile he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of.

He’s glad that it’s you.

If Sae were softer, more sensitive like Rin, he’d tell you. If he were better with words, if he knew what to say or where to start, he’d grab your hand and take you somewhere quiet and romantic, and then he’d tell you the truth. He’d tell you everything, all about the way you make him feel and all the parts of himself you make him want to give you.

But Sae isn’t like that. And while normally he wouldn’t hesitate to go after what he wants, he’s not going to risk ruining your birthday or the friendship you’ve built by telling you about the feelings he’s only now realizing he has, especially when he has no idea how to put them into words.

So he doesn’t.

He just listens to the sound of your voice and keeps his feelings to himself, pretending that absolutely nothing has changed even when it’s obvious that everything has.

Eventually, Aina and the rest of your girlfriends show up at the bar to steal you away. They’re shouting something about birthday pictures and ass-shaking that Sae only half-understands, but he doesn’t fight them on it. He knows how excited you are to spend tonight celebrating and letting loose with your friends, so he lets them whisk you away, nodding when you promise to catch up with him later.

Shidou and Oliver show up to harass him the second you and your friends are gone. They try to bully him into taking shots with them, but when that doesn’t work, they settle for setting him up with another drink instead. Then they each sling an arm around his shoulders and herd him over to the couches, where a handful of their other teammates are waiting.

The next time Sae sees you, you're back on the dance floor with your friends. He recognizes most of them, like Aina and Eri, Kenta and Misaki. The only stranger is the man standing behind you, the one Sae immediately decides he doesn’t like.

That’s when Sae notices how close this guy is to you and how low his hands are on your waist. All of a sudden, ignoring his feelings for you becomes a lot harder to do, especially now, when he’s almost positive that you’re dancing with your ex.

Sae doesn’t actually know that the man you’re dancing with is Adrian, of course. He’s too far away to hear what’s being said or to catch any names, but with how comfortable this guy seems to be with touching you, it isn’t hard to guess. He’s lean and broad-shouldered, too, with bright green eyes and silky dark hair, and well— you did say you have a type.

And when you glance over your shoulder to look at him, instead of being disgusted and telling him to get the fuck away from you, the way Sae is hoping you will, you smile. You actually fucking smile, accepting the bastard’s outstretched hand and letting him spin you around, like it’s normal, like you’re used to it. Like it’s something the two of you have done a million times before.

Quite frankly, it makes Sae want to fucking vomit.

It bothers him more than he cares to admit, watching you dance with Adrian and seeing how happy you look, how easily you welcome your ex-boyfriend’s touch. You aren’t even doing anything particularly scandalous, just laughing and letting him twirl you around, but seeing it happen still makes Sae’s stomach churn and his chest ache in a way he knows can’t be normal.

When the song changes, Aina ushers you and the rest of your group back towards the bar, ending your little stint on the dance floor. Sae finds himself grateful for the interruption, until he realizes that all it’s done is provide Adrian with the opportunity to get even closer to you, nestling himself between you and Eri.

Aina stands on your other side and waves down the bartender, but all Sae can focus on is the arm Adrian has wrapped around your shoulders, the way he leans in close and whispers in your ear.

Immediately, Sae decides he can’t watch anymore, not unless he actually wants to throw up. So instead of sticking around to see what happens next, he stands up and walks away, before the tension in his chest makes him do something stupid.

Shidou and Oliver call after him in confusion, but Sae ignores them, disappearing into the crowd without looking back.

There’s an outdoor section attached to the lounge, guarded by a set of clunky metal doors he didn’t notice until now. He pushes past them and is pleased to find the space almost entirely empty, save for the trio of smokers who are already on their way back inside, their cigarettes quickly blackening in the ashtray left on one of the tables outside.

Sae walks past them as they exit, ignoring the open chairs and couches in favor of standing closer to the balcony. He braces himself against the railing, nursing a drink he doesn’t even really want in his hand and a heaviness he isn’t used to in his heart.

It’s colder out here than it is inside. Quieter, too, though Sae hardly minds it. He welcomes the chill and the silence it brings, even if it does little to sort out his thoughts. All he knows for sure is that right now, he wants to be alone, and being out here can give him that, so he stays.

He enjoys about ten minutes of blissful silence before he hears the doors push open again. He braces himself with a deep sigh and looks over his shoulder, ready to tell Oliver to go back inside and leave him alone, but he stops himself when he sees that it’s you.

And it’s awful, Sae thinks, how easily the sight of you softens him, how happy he is to see you, even now. A few seconds ago, he was convinced he didn’t want to see anyone at all, but looking at you now, he can’t imagine ever asking you to leave.

The thought’s a little easier for him to stomach now that he’s accepted his feelings for you, but that doesn’t make it any less disorienting.

“There you are,” you say, greeting him with a warm smile and looking just as happy to see him now as you were when he first arrived. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to. I tried asking Oliver, but he wasn’t sure, either.”

Sae’s eyebrows raise at your words, his previous agitation forgotten. “You went looking for me?”

“Of course.” You join him at the railing, heels clacking against the pavement as you walk. You’re standing close enough now that your arm touches his, but he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. “I can’t exactly fulfill my promise of ogling you if you’re all the way out here, now, can I?”

“I’m sure you would’ve figured something out,” he says, bumping his shoulder with yours, even as the corners of his lips twitch in amusement. “You’re persistent that way.”

“Can you blame me? You know what the sight of you with your shirt buttons undone does to the general public, myself included.”

“Weirdly enough, you’re not the first person to tell me that tonight.”

“Let me guess— Shidou?”

“He’s the only other person as dedicated to flirting with me as you are.”

You laugh, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a shrug. “What can I say? We have excellent taste.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” He raises an eyebrow at you and hums, amused. “And here I thought it was just the two of you being shameless as always.”

“Only for you,” you say, voice low and playful, punctuating your words with a ridiculous wink that he shouldn’t find nearly half as endearing as he does. “Well, you and Pedro Pascal, but he didn’t show up for my birthday the way you did, so— mostly you.”

“I’m flattered,” he drawls sarcastically, making you laugh.

A brief silence follows, though it’s far from uncomfortable. It never is, not when it’s just you and Sae. You know he isn’t exactly the most talkative person, but you’ve never seemed to have a problem with that, never tried to make him into something he’s not. It’s one of the many things he likes about you.

You blink when you catch him staring at you, but you don’t hesitate to smile at him anyway. “What?”

“Nothing.” He’s quick to change the subject, clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away from your own. That’s when he notices the way you’re shivering, your arms going up to wrap around yourself as a breeze passes and goosebumps rise on your skin. “You’re cold.”

“Only a little,” you admit, expression bashful as you rub your arm, “but it’s fine. I’ll adjust. Honestly, with how hot it was inside, I probably need the—”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and offering it for you to take. “Here.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. Really, you don’t have to—”

Your protests quickly go nowhere, Sae choosing to ignore you and all but shoving his jacket into your hands. You accept it from him somewhat unsurely, though that hesitance quickly disappears the moment you feel how warm his jacket feels around you.

You slide your arms through the sleeves and let the jacket rest comfortably around your shoulders, looking up to face him with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He nods in acknowledgement of your gratitude but says nothing else, too busy taking in the sight of you in his jacket and thinking about how much better it’d be if you were actually his.

Not for the first time, he thinks of confessing his feelings. He settles for bringing up the gift he got you instead, hoping it’ll be enough to make you understand.

“There’s something in it for you,” he says quickly, before he can talk himself out of it. “Inside the pocket.”

You blink, taken aback. “Really?”

When he nods, you reach inside his jacket. It takes you a moment or two of rummaging around, but eventually you find what you’re looking for, pulling out the dark velvet box that holds the necklace he got you for your birthday and cradling it gently inside your palm.

You meet his gaze briefly, eyes soft and searching, before opening the box with your other hand. You let out a tiny gasp when you see what’s inside, your eyes widening at the sun pendant that rests before you. It quite literally takes your breath away, and Sae knows, even before you meet his eyes again, that he’s done something right.

“Oh, my god. Sae, this is so— I mean, I don’t even know what to—” He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this way before, so at a loss for words. Usually you always have something to say, but right now you can hardly form a sentence, eyes wide as you all but gape at him. “Are you sure?”

“Happy birthday,” Sae says, as softly and sincerely as he can manage. “I hope you like it.”

“Are you kidding? How could I not?”

You laugh a little, voice disbelieving as you trace your fingertips over the necklace, gentle and admiring. Sae can’t help but smile to himself as he watches you, pleased by how touched you seem to be by the gift.

“It’s beautiful. Seriously, Sae, it’s gorgeous and wonderful— and way too fucking expensive.” You snap the box closed, shaking your head firmly. “I can’t accept this.”

Your words make him frown, brows furrowing slightly as you hold the box out to him. He had a feeling you’d be difficult about this, knowing how notoriously stubborn you are, but he thought you’d at least put the necklace on before trying to give it back to him.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?” You stare at him, bewildered, an almost comically serious look on your face as you lift the box in your hands and shake it around. “Sae, there are actual diamonds on this necklace.”

He resists the urge to laugh at your expression, shrugging his shoulders and raising an eyebrow. “So?”

“So?” you repeat, giving him an incredulous look. “That means it’s probably worth more than my freakin’ apartment! I can’t take this from you.”

“You’re not taking anything. I’m giving it to you,” Sae corrects, completely unbothered, even as your eye starts to twitch in a way that makes it clear you think he’s lost his mind. “You know, like that gift thing people do on birthdays?”

He tries to make a joke, but you hardly acknowledge it, evidently too occupied with having an internal crisis about the amount of money he spent to appreciate his rare attempt at humor. There’s a frown on your lips and a crease in your brow that reassure him it’s going to take a lot more than that to convince you to accept the gift, but thankfully, Sae has already prepared for that.

“I’m not bringing it back to the store,” he says, meeting your eyes so you can see exactly how serious he is. “I already got rid of the receipt, and I’m not giving it to anyone else, so either you take it, or it goes in the trash.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the look on his face must make you reconsider, because you’re closing it before you can say anything else. Realizing that regardless of your protests, he won’t be changing his mind, you sigh, relenting.

“Fine. I’ll take it.” You’re trying your best to pout, making a show of your begrudging acceptance, but the sparkle in your eye as you gaze down at the box in your hand betrays just how thrilled you really are to be keeping the gift. “But I would like the record to show that I think you’re a psychopath. A filthy rich, full-blown psychopath.”

“You know, most people would just say thank you.”

Sae expects you to make a quip back, maybe even return his snark with an eye roll of your own, but you surprise him by taking his hand in yours, using the other to cradle the box to your chest.

“Thank you, Sae.” You squeeze his hand and smile, gratitude and sincerity hanging off every word. “I love it.”

You give his hand another gentle squeeze before releasing it and turning your attention back to the box you’re holding, a distraction Sae finds himself grateful for. He’s not sure what kind of expression he’s making right now, but if the way his pulse is racing is any indication, he doubts it’s anything normal.

He watches as you open the box and remove the necklace from inside. Once it’s been freed, you put the empty box back in his pocket and let the necklace dangle from your fingertips, turning to offer it to him again.

“Will you help me put it on?”

For a moment, all Sae can do is nod. His pulse is still racing, drumming beneath his skin with the kind of adrenaline he thought he’d only ever get while playing soccer. He ignores it as best as he can, clearing his throat and taking the necklace from you.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, turning so your back is facing him and holding up your hair so it’s out of the way. He brings the necklace to your throat, fingers brushing against your neck in a way that makes you shudder slightly, goosebumps rising on your skin as you lean instinctively into his touch.

The sight is tempting enough to make him want to forget the necklace entirely and bring his lips to your throat, grazing the spot below your ear he knows drives you crazy, but somehow he resists the urge, clasping the necklace shut without any further incident.

“Well?” You let go of your hair and turn back around to face him, a smile on your face as you put your hands on your hips and strike a pose. “How’s it look?”

What Sae wants to say is that you look stunning. That you always do, and that it has nothing to do with the necklace at your throat or the clothes you wear and everything to do with the way you carry yourself, dramatic nonsense and all.

What comes out of his mouth instead isn’t nearly as poetic. “It looks better on you than it would have in the garbage can.”

It’s probably one of the least romantic things you’ve ever heard, but luckily for him, you’re too used to his personality to be offended by it. All you do is laugh, brushing it off without a second thought.

“You know,” you say, in the shittiest imitation of his voice you can manage, throwing his words back at him the way he’s sure you planned to from the beginning, “most people would just say it looks good on me.”

Sae huffs out a laugh, though he still makes a point to roll his eyes at your words. He watches you grin and laugh along with him, taking in the curve of your lips and the flutter of your lashes, and finds himself speaking again, before he can change his mind.

“It does.” It’s hard to say who the confession surprises more— you or himself. He keeps going anyway, even as your laughter fades and your eyes widen. “You look—” It takes him a second to gather himself, the words awkward and stiff coming from his mouth, but just as sincere. “—beautiful. You are beautiful.”

Understandably, the compliment catches you off guard. Sae’s called you many things before —stubborn, ridiculous, dramatic, even shameless— but he’s never called you beautiful. He’s never called anything beautiful, at least not on purpose. You probably didn’t even think it was something he could do.

Maybe that’s why you’re looking at him so strangely now, his words stunning you into silence. He can only hope you know he meant them. Then he notices the shy little smile on your face and the way you wrap his jacket a little tighter around yourself and realizes you already do.

“Thank you.”

Another silence falls between you, different from before. This one is a little more intense, the air between you thick with words left unsaid, but it’s still not uncomfortable, at least not yet. Sae knows it’s true, because when he leans back against the railing, you follow, settling into the space beside him and letting your arm press against his without a hint of regret or awkwardness.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sae.” You don’t look at him when you say it, eyes on the city skyline below you, all the twinkling, faraway lights blanketed by the cover of darkness. Your voice is quieter than he’s used to, but still undoubtedly sincere. “And not because of the gift, or because of the compliment, even though those were nice, too— but because of you.”

That catches him off guard. “Because of me?”

“Yeah, because of you.” You turn to look at him then, all easy smiles and undeniable fondness. “Just you. I mean, obviously you didn’t have to be here, and I know you probably haven’t been enjoying yourself too much, but still, it’s nice.”

“What makes you think I’m not enjoying myself?”

“You’re kidding, right? This whole thing is loud music and a big crowd, neither of which you’re fond of. Besides, you told me you hated parties.”

“I don’t hate you.” The words fall from his lips before he can stop them, soft and tender and way too fucking honest. Your eyes widen, even more now than they did when he called you beautiful, and immediately he clears his throat, backtracking. “...I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, so you do hate me, then?”

“What? No, that’s not what I—” He cuts himself off when he catches the smile you try and fail to hide behind your hand, any concern he had about hurting your feelings vanishing as he shoots you a scowl. “Oh, shut up.”

You give up on masking your amusement and begin laughing outright. Normally, the sound would annoy him, especially when done at his expense, but because it’s you, all it does is make him grow more fond, the corners of his lips curling into a smile of his own before he can stop them.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you say, your side pressing against his as you lean in close, whispering like you’re sharing a secret, “I don’t hate you, too.”

It’s nothing like an actual confession, nor can it be considered a real sign that you’ll return his feelings, but Sae hears you say it, watches the way you watch him, and suddenly he knows that if there were ever a time for him to tell you the truth, then this would be it.

But words have never come easily to Sae, so instead of saying it, instead of telling you, he decides to show you.

He brings his hand to your face, cupping your cheek in his palm with a kind of gentleness he didn’t even think himself capable of until now. He swipes his thumb along your bottom lip, his gaze never leaving yours, while you look on, startled by his sudden softness.

He knows as soon as he does it that the way he’s holding you now is something different, something real. He knows you’ll feel it, too, knows it’ll catch you off guard, even if it’s far from the first time he’s touched you. It’s why he isn’t the least bit surprised when your eyes widen, your voice a quiet, stunned murmur as you open your mouth to speak.

“Sae, what are you…”

He doesn’t let you finish that thought, closing what little distance is left between you to press his lips against yours. It’s a softer kiss than he usually goes for, every bit as tender and delicate as the way his hand cradles your cheek and filled with all the sincerity he can manage, all the longing he didn’t even realize he’d been feeling until now.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, lips parted and eyes fluttering back open to meet his, dazed, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

“What was that for?”

For a moment, Sae has no idea how to respond. You’ve always been the most observant person in the room —it’s how you found out about the ankle he sprained last month, having picked up on the strain in his voice the moment he answered your call— so the fact that you still haven’t realized he’s trying to confess his feelings for you is unexpected, to say the least.

Still, he doesn’t let it deter him, letting the hand he uses to cradle your face speak for him, thumb brushing across your cheek in a way he hopes makes things a little clearer.

“What do you think?”

You don’t answer right away, your eyes locked with his own, stunned and searching. You reach up a hand and place it over the one he has on your face, but your touch is hesitant, unsure— much like your voice is when you speak again.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be thinking right now.”

Sae is trying very hard to be sensitive for you, but he can’t stop himself from frowning at your words. He knew telling you about his feelings —or, in this case, showing you— wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t think it’d be this hard, either. And though he knows it’s probably unfair of him to think kissing you like this will be enough, your reaction isn’t exactly making him feel any better about it.

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve kissed you.”

“Well, yeah, I know that, but you’ve never—” You cut yourself off, brows furrowing as you fix him with a serious look. “You’ve never kissed me like that.”

“Maybe I just didn’t think you could handle it.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, Sae knows, not to mention completely at odds with what he’s actually feeling, but it’s what comes out of his mouth, anyway. You frown as soon as he says it, eyes narrowing as you shake your head.

“You’re such a dick, Sae.”

“I know.” He moves his hand and brushes a piece of hair away from your face. You let him, your gaze flickering down to his lips then back up again to meet his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”

And though he knows as well as you do that you should say yes, though you have every right to push him away and demand he explain himself properly, all you do is lean in closer, your lips hovering against his as you answer, voice low and deliberate and just a little breathless, “...No.”

He closes the distance at the same time you do, your lips meeting in another kiss that’s as longing and passionate as the first. It’s just as soft, too, soft in the way you still can’t quite make sense of, but that hardly seems to matter to you now as you tilt your head and let yourself become lost in it, one of your hands going up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Then you’re pressing your body against his, your lips moving to nip at his jaw, and it’s all Sae can do to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer, his mouth finding yours once more.

There’s so much more the two of you need to talk about, so much he still has tell you so that you can finally understand the extent of his feelings, but right now, all he can focus on is the feel of your lips against his own and the weight of you in his arms, steady and solid, like it’s where you were meant to be all along.

He lifts a hand to cradle your jaw, and your lips part, tongue sliding against his as he walks the two of you backwards. Your back hits the railing, and you make a needy little sound in the back of your throat that just makes him kiss you harder, one of your legs going up to wrap around his waist.

His lips are halfway down your neck when your phone starts to ring. The two of you ignore it at first, too lost in each other to pay it any real mind, and eventually it stops, just in time for Sae to make his way back up to your lips, his free hand shifting lower to grip at your thigh.

Not even a minute later, the ringing starts back up again, a loud, chiming tone that’s a lot harder to ignore the second time around. Reluctantly, Sae pulls away, though he doesn’t go very far— just enough to meet your eyes, one of his hands still cradling the side of your face.

“You should probably answer that,” he mutters, even as his other hand smooths over the skin of your thigh, his lips hovering just a breath away from your own.

“What?” you ask, dazed and distracted, your eyes still focused on his lips.

“Your phone, dumbass,” he replies, soft and amused, the corners of his mouth curling up at your reaction. “Answer it before your friends start a tequila-fueled search party.”

“Oh, shit— yeah.” The reality of his words spurs you back into action, your eyes widening a fraction as you snap yourself out of your daze. “Good call.”

You work together to untangle yourselves from each other, unwinding your arms from around his neck while Sae guides your leg back to the ground to help you find your footing. When he’s sure you won’t fall, he lets his hands drop and takes a step back, giving you space to answer the call.

You, however, seem to have other plans, your hand shooting out to grab onto the front of his shirt before he can get too far. Your phone is still ringing, even louder now that you’ve pulled it out of your purse, but you don’t seem too concerned about it, your attention focused solely on Sae.

“This’ll be quick,” you reassure him. “So don’t— don’t go anywhere, okay?”

It’s cute, Sae thinks, how earnest you sound when you say it, how serious you look as you ask him to stay. He’s never been good at denying you anything, even before he realized he had feelings for you, and now? Now, it’s the last thing on his mind. “Okay.”

Your expression brightens, lips curling up as you smile, pleased by his response. Then you let go of his shirt and swipe at your phone screen, bringing the device up to your ear.

“Hello?”

There’s a brief pause as you lean against the railing, awaiting a response. Sae doesn’t think much of it, until he hears you speak again.

“Oh, hey, Adrian.”

That’s when the tension in his chest from earlier returns full force, every muscle in Sae’s body locking up the moment your ex-boyfriend’s name leaves your lips. You don’t pick up on it, either, too focused on your conversation to notice the frown on his face or the furrow of his brow.

(He can’t tell if that makes things better or worse.)

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just stepped out for a minute,” you continue, oblivious to the tension in his frame, the scoff he just barely manages to hide. “No, I’m not, I promise— I’m with a friend.”

A friend, you say, as if that’s all you expect from him, all you want him to be. Just a friend, as if everything that’s happened between you tonight doesn’t matter.

Needless to say, it doesn’t sit well with him at all.

Is that why you told him you were okay with him missing your party? Why you looked so surprised when he showed up anyway? Because you wanted to spend the night with your ex-boyfriend instead?

Earlier, Sae thought that the longing and urgency that poured from your lips as you kissed him back meant something, that you could actually want him the way he wants you. Not just as a friend or a hookup or whatever the hell it is you’ve been doing this whole time, but as something more, something real.

He understands now that it was all just wishful thinking on his part, a fantasy he should’ve known better than to indulge. He feels whatever softness you managed to bring out of him fade away, and with it his desire to open his heart and confess his feelings for you.

The logical part of his brain, the part he usually has no trouble listening to, knows he’s overreacting. It isn’t fair of him to assume there’s something going on with you and Adrian just because you answered his phone call, just like it isn’t fair of him to assume you’ll understand his feelings without him actually talking to you about them.

Still, it’s hard to be logical when all Sae can focus on is the churn of his stomach and the ache in his chest as he watches you chat with your ex. It’s a little easier than watching you interact with him in person, Sae supposes, but not by much. He still feels ready to throw up by the end of it, frustrated and annoyed for reasons he still isn’t sure how to explain to you.

Thankfully, you don’t stay on the phone for long. Your conversation with Adrian only lasts a minute or two, and then you’re hanging up the call, tucking your phone back into your purse without any further distractions.

You reach for Sae the moment your hands are free, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his. It’s muscle memory for him to open his arms and welcome you, his hands moving to rest at your waist before he can stop himself.

“Now,” you say with a smile, earnest and eager as you lean in close, “where were we?”

You kiss him, then, determined to pick up exactly where you left off, your lips warm and soft as they move against his own. And if it were any other day, then Sae would be kissing you back without a second thought, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you even closer.

But that was before your phone call with Adrian, before you laughed and said Sae was just your friend, right after he kissed you and held you in a way he thought would make it clear that he wanted more than that. Now it’s all he can think about, all that frustration and bitterness he felt earlier —and jealousy, he realizes now, begrudgingly, unfortunately— settling into his chest in the worst way.

It doesn’t take you long to notice his hesitance. You feel his lack of response and pull back, a look of concern on your face as you meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

If Sae were better, more honest, he’d tell you the truth. He’d tell you how much he hates the idea of you and your ex reconnecting, how he can’t stand seeing you with Adrian or anyone else for that matter, not because he actually knows him or because he doesn’t trust your judgment, but because he wants you to be with him instead.

But Sae can’t do that. In fact, just the mere thought of putting himself out there, of allowing himself to be that vulnerable without knowing exactly what’s going on inside your head makes him feel like he’s going to be sick, so he doesn’t.

He just shuts down entirely, closing himself off the way he always does whenever he starts feeling more than he knows how to handle. It’s probably the worst thing he can do at this moment, especially when it comes to you, but that’s of little consequence to him when he feels as raw and hopelessly human as he does right now.

“You should get back inside,” is what he tells you instead, distancing himself in the only way he knows how, though it’s the exact opposite of what his heart wants. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

At first, the bitterness in his tone is lost on you. Your lips curve into a smirk, your voice playful and coy as you lower your hands to his neck and tug at the collar of his shirt. “They can wait a little longer.”

You lean in to kiss him again, pulling on his collar so he can meet you halfway, your tongue sliding along his bottom lip. He ends up kissing you back despite himself, parting his lips so your tongue can meet his before he has the chance to think better of it.

It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to remember he’s supposed to be distancing himself from you, too lost in the feeling of your lips moving against his to recall why he was so upset in the first place.

Eventually, though, he finds it in himself to pull away, turning his head before you have the chance to kiss him again. “Something tells me Adrian wouldn’t agree with you.”

This time, you do notice the bitterness in his voice. You loosen your grip on his collar, drawing back to give him a funny look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just forget it.” Sae lets his hands drop, releasing his hold on your waist. You’re so caught off guard, you don’t even complain, your own hands falling back down to your sides as he takes a step away from you. “You can leave my jacket with Oliver. I’ll get it from him later.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t bother to hide your confusion at his sudden shift in mood, eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “You’re leaving?”

“You said it yourself.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, the smile he sends you wry and humorless. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Yeah, well, neither is being passive aggressive, but you seem to be doing a great job of that right now.” You cross your arms over your chest and frown, your normally relaxed features twisting into a scowl. You’re definitely annoyed by his behavior, but he can see in your eyes that you’re hurt by it, too. He thought seeing that would make him feel better, but it doesn’t. “Why are you being like this, Sae? A minute ago, we were totally fine, and now you’re acting like you’re mad at me or something.”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“Yes, you are, and I want to know why. I mean, all I did was answer one phone call, so why are you acting so— oh. Oh, my god. Is that why you’re mad at me? Because of the phone call?”

Sae turns to scoff at you, acting as if he couldn’t care less, even though the problem is that he very much does. “You really think I give a shit that you spoke to your ex?”

“Why does it matter that he’s my ex?” You tilt your head, then, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until slowly —despite his best efforts— the realization begins to dawn on you. All at once, your confusion disappears, replaced by a wide-eyed, knowing look that makes whatever hope he had of avoiding this conversation vanish. “Itoshi Sae, are you jealous?”

You’re right, of course —frustratingly enough, you kind of always are— but Sae thinks he’d rather chew concrete than admit it, especially when he’s already resigned himself to burying his feelings.

It’s why he kisses his teeth at your words, his lip curling up in disdain. “Tch, you wish.”

“Liar. You’re jealous as hell. In fact, I bet the whole reason you were even out here in the first place is because you saw me dance with him and got all sulky about it. That’s how jealous you are.” You’re confident enough about it to dare to take a step forward, raising an eyebrow as you meet his eyes with an expectant look. “Am I wrong?”

All Sae can do is scowl at you, irritated by both your smugness and the fact that it does nothing to change the way he feels about you. “You’re a pain in the ass, is what you are.”

And because you’re you, of course his words don’t offend you in the slightest. If anything, your satisfaction only grows, your lips curving into a smirk that’s as pleased as it is insufferable. “I still haven’t heard a ‘no.’”

Sae grimaces but remains silent, half because he’s stubborn and half because you aren’t wrong. You’ve always been smart, too smart, really —it’s one of the things he likes most about you— so of course you were able to pick up on his jealousy, despite his attempts at denying it.

He expects you to give him a hard time over it, maybe even chew him out for how immature and ridiculous he’s been acting as a result, but you surprise him by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. When he doesn’t push you away, you take that as a sign to continue, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You know you don’t have to be jealous, right?” Your voice is tender and comforting when you speak. There’s a certain seriousness in it, too, a firmness that lets him know how much you mean it. He wishes it didn’t affect him as much as it does. “Adrian and I used to be a thing, sure, but it’s not like that between us anymore. He and I are just friends now.”

“You mean the same way you and I are just friends?”

“Oh, wow, you really are jealous. Is that why you showed up tonight? You wanted to make sure there was nothing going on between me and my ex?”

“It couldn’t matter to me even if there was.” He tries not to sound bitter when he says it, but his efforts are hardly effective, the half-smile he forces tight-lipped and strained, even as he moves his hands to settle on your hips. “It’s not like I’m your boyfriend.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to be,” you admit, low and honest. And maybe he’s just imagining it, but he swears there’s a hint of disappointment in your voice, too, a sadness he isn’t quite sure how to make sense of. “I mean, back when we started all this, neither of us wanted a relationship. Has that changed?”

It takes all Sae has to keep himself from ripping his own hair out, because haven’t you been paying attention at all? Of course it’s changed. Do you really think he’d be here fighting with himself and agonizing over how to confess to you if it hadn’t?

He wants to tell you as much, can feel the words right there on the tip of his tongue, but his pride keeps him from saying them out loud, at least not until he knows exactly how you feel, too.

“Has it changed for you?”

“Not so fast, hotshot. I asked you first.”

He sighs. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” The look you give him is as unapologetic as it is pointed, the sternness in your voice leaving little room for argument. “You almost walked away from me on my birthday, asshole. The least you can do now is answer my question.”

It’s a fair point, he knows, especially after everything he’s put you through tonight, but Sae is nothing if not completely awful when it comes to verbalizing his feelings. He knows it most likely won’t be enough to satisfy you, but he gives your hips a gentle squeeze anyway, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer. “Isn’t this answer enough?”

“Not even close,” you tell him flatly, every bit as unimpressed as he thought you’d be. “I want you to tell me how you really feel about me. And I want you to say it with your words, not just hold me or kiss me and expect me to read between the lines.”

“Words aren’t really my strong suit,” he mutters, more honest now than he’s been all night, averting his gaze to the floor.

“Try anyway.” You lift a hand and run your fingers through his hair the way you know he likes. It’s disarming enough to have him meeting your gaze once more. Your eyes are soft, searching. Patient, too, despite him, the way you always seem to be. “Come on, Sae. Is it really that hard for you to be honest with me?”

He laughs, though there isn’t any humor to it. “You have no idea.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you okay with me dating other people?”

“Definitely not.”

“Why?”

Sae narrows his eyes, shooting you a flat look, because you know. You have to know. After everything he’s said, everything he’s done, there’s no way you haven’t pieced it together by now. “You already know why.”

“Oh, I do,” you confirm, smug and irritating as ever, smile bright and eyes knowing, “but I want to hear you say it, anyway.” You brush his hair out of his eyes, and he watches as your expression morphs into something softer, something fond and affectionate that makes his heart stutter the way it’s only ever done around you. “For me?”

And though it isn’t easy for him, though it goes against all of his better instincts and is quite possibly the last thing he’s ever wanted to do— for you, he decides to be sincere. “Fine.”

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to find the words, urged on by the weight of you in his arms and the tender, encouraging way you’re looking at him. It’s daunting for him to be this honest, not to mention completely unnerving, especially when you both know how bad he is with words in general— but for you, he’s willing to try.

“...I like you. I really, really like you, as in I have feelings for you, and this thing we’ve been doing, this casual, no strings, whatever the hell it is— it’s not enough for me anymore. And I want— I want to be with you. For real, this time, if— if you’ll have me.”

Sae snaps his mouth closed the moment he’s able to get the words out, bracing himself for your reaction. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting from you, exactly —rejection, reciprocation, maybe some backwards, nonsensical combination of them both— but he’s determined to be prepared for it regardless, determined to appear unaffected, even if it means he has to grit his teeth to do so.

But then you’re cupping his face in your hands, gaze soft and open and filled with the kind of affection he never once imagined he’d be on the receiving end of, and any notion he had of remaining unaffected is promptly cast aside, replaced by the warmth of your touch and the tender, fond way you look at him.

You lean in, and it’s all Sae can do to close his eyes as you press your lips against his in a slow, gentle kiss. The gesture is soft and surprisingly chaste, soft like the way he kissed you earlier, back when he was trying to communicate the extent of his feelings. It doesn’t last very long, but it doesn’t need to, not when he can feel it linger even after you pull away, delicate and deliberate, important in all the ways that matter.

When he opens his eyes, he finds that you’re already looking at him, your lips pulled into that soft little smile he doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of. Then you wrap your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his.

“I want to be with you, too,” you say, steady and sure, without a hint of regret or uncertainty, and Sae swears something in his chest cracks wide open, every bit of affection he’s ever felt for you pouring out until it’s all he knows, all he can feel. “As way more than just casual. I have for a while now.”

“You have?” The confession catches him off guard, makes his eyes widen a fraction as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze properly. “Since when?”

“Since your away game in France.” You say it naturally, doubtlessly, without any of the hesitation he would’ve had to grapple with to do the same thing. Not for the first time, he finds himself envying how easy you make it look, how effortless it is for you to be so honest and upfront about your feelings. “You were only gone for two weeks, but it felt like ages. Then you showed up to my apartment with pastries from that bakery your manager suggested, and they were amazing, but all I could think about was how happy I was that you were back. That’s when I knew I was in trouble.”

For a moment, Sae has no idea what to say. His away game in France was almost two months ago. You’ve had feelings for him since back then? If that was the case, then why didn’t you tell him? Had he really made you feel like you couldn’t talk to him about it?

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted to, but every time I thought about bringing it up, I’d remember what we said about keeping it casual. I figured if I said something, it’d scare you off. And I didn’t— I didn’t want to lose you. I still don’t.”

You look down, then, averting your gaze, uncharacteristically nervous as you fidget with the buttons on his shirt. And as Sae watches you standing there in front of him, quiet and apprehensive in a way he’s never seen you before, he wonders if maybe he’s not the only one who’s been reluctant to be vulnerable, after all.

Things would be different if either one of you had said something sooner, he knows. If you’d been brave enough to let the other in. He imagines it would’ve saved you both a lot of time, knowing that it wasn’t just one-sided, that your feelings were returned.

But you’re still here. You both are, and that’s more than enough, he thinks. It’s everything.

(After all, Sae’s never wanted anything the way he wants you.)

It’s why he takes your chin in his hand, urging you to look up at him. For once, you don’t put up much of a fight, your eyes flickering up to meet his own.

That’s when he kisses you, soft and sweet, passionate and patient the way you’ve always been with him, the way he knows you deserve to have returned. He kisses you like he means it, like you have all the time in the world, because right now, you do. He kisses you, and he hopes you feel the promise in it, the one that this time, he won’t hesitate to say out loud.

“You don’t have to worry about losing me, dummy,” he tells you as soon as you break apart for air, breathless and sincere as he presses his forehead against yours. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile at him, then, knowing how much he means it, bright and beaming as you take his hand in yours and lace your fingers together.

“I’m not going anywhere, either,” you promise, and the best part is, you don’t.

When the two of you go back inside to rejoin the party, you do it together, your hand tucked securely into his, your fingers intertwined. You’re still wearing his jacket, still smiling at him in that warm, easy way of yours. He knows now for sure it’s something he’ll never get tired of, knows he’s going to spend the rest of the foreseeable future making sure he deserves it.

When your friends see you walk in holding hands with Sae, chaos ensues. Thankfully, the two of you are more than prepared for it, braving their onslaught of wolf-whistles and too-personal questions without missing a beat.

Somehow, Oliver and Aina are the loudest of the bunch, hooting and hollering in matching degrees of shock and excitement, despite already knowing what the two of you have been up to these past few months. Shidou isn’t far behind them, though he does lament Sae’s new taken status. He wraps an arm around each of your shoulders and very seriously offers himself up to the two of you as a willing volunteer for a threesome, should you ever find yourselves in the market for one.

You and Sae take it all in stride, enduring their teasing and answering their least invasive questions until finally you decide to use your birthday authority to put an end to their pestering, declaring in no uncertain terms that they all go back to celebrating. They complain about it, of course, well-meaning and meddlesome as they are, but still they do as you ask, cooing and waggling their eyebrows at you as they take their leave.

“I’m sorry our friends are all unhinged weirdos,” you apologize as soon as everyone else is gone, blunt and serious enough to make Sae laugh. You’re sitting in his lap on the couch, the two of you tucked away in a dark corner of the lounge in an attempt at finding some reprieve from all the chatter and excitement of the night. “And that they have no concept of what it means to mind their own business.”

He hums in acknowledgement, reassuring you with a kiss to your shoulder that there’s nothing you need to apologize for. You smile at the gesture and drape your arm around his shoulders in turn, using your other hand to press your palm against his cheek and make him look up at you.

It’s only then he notices the slight crease in your brow, the worry you’re trying your best to play off with a carefree smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “They didn’t scare you away, did they?”

“Not even close.” He shakes his head and squeezes at your hip, taking your hand in his to press a kiss against your palm. “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

“Good.” You wind your fingers through his, that smile he likes —maybe even loves— curving its way onto your lips. Happiness has always been a fickle thing for Sae, floating just outside of his reach, but he sees the way you look at him, feels the warmth of your skin against his, and he knows— it’s here. It’s you. It’s always been you. “I’m glad.”

Yeah, Sae thinks, shifting to meet you halfway as you lean down for his lips, only this time he doesn’t have to worry about hiding or burying his feelings. This time, he doesn’t have to do anything at all except kiss you, the girl he’s wanted for too long, the one he finally gets to call his. So am I.

Written by: Dawn Taglist link

[pearlywritings]

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife.

pairings: Alhaitham, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, a little bit of bullying, a bit of unwelcome drunk flirting, characters are whipped for their wives

word count: 5.4k+ words

a/n: part 2 can be read here!

Alhaitham 

Your husband is… Truly something. Honestly, that's the best way to describe this epitome of nonchalance, smugness and sarcasm, sprinkled with sharp glares and served with a smartass sauce. No one would be able to swallow such a nasty pill, yet you somehow managed. But that's what doctors say, right? The medicine might be bitter, but it'll get better. And it did.

Hard to believe, but the Akademiya's Scribe is enamored by you - it took time to realize, many interactions for him to see that you do not rise annoyance in him, multiple times sharing the eye contact and hundreds of hours being your interlocutor to cognize the beauty of you, but when he fell - he fell hard, and the realization didn't make him feel repulsed. On the contrary, it brought him inexplicable peace, and, being an efficient and straightforward man he is, Alhaitham faced you the very next day and asked out on a date.

The rest is history. You dated, you moved in, you got married - the sequence your husband perfected in its briefness to be over with quickly anytime his colleagues or anyone asked about you and your relationship. You, of course, would give a more detailed summary to your friends, speaking of him so tenderly, always witnessing the same reaction - disbelief. And you get it where they come from - after all, your partner is known to not be the most cordial person. He prefers it that way though - he is bothered much less and can dedicate that free time to his lovely wife.

He makes it a point to not leave the house unnecessarily early, just exactly enough to get to his office on time, and same with finishing his work, bluntly rejecting anyone who tries to approach him with stuff. This way he doesn’t waste a second with you, quite on contrary, sometimes a couple of hours can be added, if you visit him during the afternoon to go grab lunch together, or enjoy the one you brought with you, and then rest somewhere in a private spot with your head on his shoulder, holding a bigger hand that is resting on your thigh, while his other one is occupied with a book. This is enough to power you both up to push through the rest of the day, and Alhaitham really appreciates it, never failing to give you a kiss on the lips and murmuring the soft words of reassurance, before parting your ways till the evening.

Today is one of those days when you find yourself in the House of Daena with a home-cooked lunch neatly wrapped and warm in your hands. A couple of librarians greet you on the way, knowing perfectly well who you are, and you smile at them. One older woman, who’s always been fond of your character, informs you that Alhaitham hasn’t left the Grand Sage’s office since the moment he arrived, and you thank her for going out of her way to reassure you that you will not need to search for him.

There’s another exchange of greetings at the bottom of an elevator and just seconds later you start ascending to the above of the huge library. The quiet whirling of mechanisms is calming and you hum softly to yourself, imagining that tender look in those light turquoise eyes, a rare shine in orange-ringed yellow pupils and a slight pull of thin lips upon seeing your figure and catching a whiff of food you brought. A content sigh escapes your chest and you prepare to soon step off the huge round platform.

But instead of catching a glimpse of your husband, you are met with sharp black eyes, staring at you and a scowl present on the face of a person you don't believe you've seen before, at least not long enough to remember. You blink in surprise, eyes darting to look at the man from head to toe - he is wearing the Akademiya’s robes, but there is no indicator to which Darshan he belongs to. A Matra perhaps? But you are used to seeing a completely different face of a scholar Alhaitham appointed as his secretary for the period of time he’d fulfill the role of an Acting Grand Sage. Panah has soft brown eyes, always nodding to you in a greeting and leaving upon your arrival if it is lunch time and his boss doesn’t instruct him to stay and carry on with his job, not minding you two.

This one practically glares at you, arms crossed and posture intimidating. You simply tilt your head in question, waiting for him to say something.

“Who allowed you to enter?”

The tone of his voice is pretty rude, and the gruff voice doesn't add grace to it. You are not one to judge someone by their looks - your husband is the proof of that, so you decide to brush it off and simply answer.

"Shohre of course, as usual."

“...as usual?” His brows furrow, and you get even more confused with the question. Is your husband having some kind of an impromptu inspection? He didn’t tell you anything about it in the morning, and since the Akasha got turned off, there is no simple way to warn you of it. 

"Is Alhaitham holding any meeting, perhaps?" You try, knowing it's absurd since he doesn't love his sweet lunch time being interrupted, but right now it's hard to find an explanation for this hostile-acting man's actions.

"You have so little respect for the Acting Great Sage?"

This time the booming edge in his words makes an echo in a pretty vast space and almost makes you flinch. The situation is escalating pretty quickly.

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but I do not believe I ever deserved such treatment from you. Would you be so kind to explain what's going on or at least let me see the Acting Great Sage-"

That must've sounded kind of sarcastic, because the man looks like he is ready to fume akin to a kettle.

"Who even are you!? Who do you think you are? Demanding a meeting like that - you must know his schedule is packed, so don't you assume that your pretty face would get you through-"

"Jahan, what is going on?" The "Jahan" shuts instantly upon hearing a deep, dripping with authority voice behind him. Your face instantly brightens when you spot the tall man approaching you two with his arms crossed and the most nonchalant expression etched in his features.

“We have an intruder, Sir.”

What in the Archon’s name- This is becoming ridiculous.

"An intruder?" He lifts his brow and glances at you, gaze lingering just for a few seconds longer. Then it returns to his subordinate. "I don't see one here."

"This woman," you move just in time not to have his index finger directly point you right in your face, "came here without prior appointment, not stating her purpose, not even stating her name!"

"Is that so?" You almost snort at how little Alhaitham cares for what this man has for an explanation, instead moving directly to you and taking a heavy lunch boxes from your hands, allowing your shoulders and arms to drop in relief.

“Her name is of no matter. All you need to know is that she is my wife.”

The room falls silent. The man stares at his boss with eyes so wide, you worry they’d pop out of his sockets. Your husband though doesn’t show any reaction to the stunned look on the man’s face, balancing all the containers in one hand, offering you the other, which you take with a smile.

"S-she what?"

"My wife. And she, along with the necessary descriptions, is literally the only person on the list of the people who are free to come and leave whenever. On the list Panah passed to you along with other instructions before taking his sick leave. Did you even skip through those?"

The tone of your husband is cold with a mocking edge, rubbing his subordinate’s incompetence in his face, and you don't need to look at the man to sense his panic.

"I-I, no of course I thoroughly looked through every single one, but I do not remember such paper, it must've been lost along the process-"

"It doesn't matter. Now you are aware. But there is one more thing you need to learn about my wife visiting."

"Yes, Sir?"

"You leave the moment she enters."

There is a momentary pause (you know Alhaitham is rolling his eyes inwardly at how slowly the notion seems to reach him), before Jahan snaps out of his stupor, slightly bows, mumbling something and quickly walks off to the elevator.

Not even waiting for the mechanism to start, your husband tugs on your hand and you take the hint, following him to the sofas and a table.

"What an imbecile," is murmured in annoyance and you finally chuckle, covering your mouth with a hand.

Your husband is truly something, but one thing is absolutely certain - his wife is the only person that really worths his nerves and time.

Ayato

Kamisato Ayato is a character of many admirable traits and worth-mentioning accomplishments, a great leader, an amazing big brother, a boss held in high regard, and a loving husband of three years to you. This last, but not the least, is Commissioner's favorite, and he makes sure to show it every opportunity present in his individual mischievous way.

You know he gets away with a lot of things, and for numerous reasons, ranging from being the head of the Yashiro Commission, to him being pretty unknown by face among the commoners due to Ayaka handling all the public affairs. This one in particular is harmless, but there is that little thing which drives you up the wall - he does it only when you are present, leaving you very flustered and with a fast beating heart.

"My name? Oh, I am a husband. This gorgeous woman's husband."

"Lord Kamisato? No need to be so formal with me, just call me her husband."

"'Kamisato Ayato' and all my titles are so long to write down, can't I sign it with 'Y/n's hubby' instead?"

"Kamisato Y/n's husband. That's who I am."

"Ayaka, have you forgotten? No more calling me 'big brother', only 'Y/n's husband- Stop laughing, I am serious!"

The last one is literally happening right before your eyes, with the younger sibling hiding her smile and suppressing her giggles behind her intricately decorated fan, as the older one has taken his glove off, wiggling his fingers to show the glistening golden band wrapped around one of them. You, on the other hand, are trying to cover your heated face with a stack of papers you picked when Ayaka entered the office and addressed her big brother as, well, big brother. Peeking above the filled with reports sheets you catch a sly smile playing on Ayato's lips, while his usually piercing eyes reflect the special kind of adoration he holds for you.

You know why he is doing this - the man fought hard for your heart and then hand in marriage, and since it is now a reality, he absolutely keens on that "I am your husband" notion. Sometimes it's a perfect ice breaker in introducing you two to new people, sometimes it's a reason for an eye roll (yours as well), at times it puts people in stupor which Ayato uses to his advantage, but there is always only one initial thought behind every single one of them - showing the world he is proud to be your partner with a label "husband" on it.

And this sentiment is fully returned! However you never had an opportunity to do the same - he always beats you to it, and leaves bashful long enough for the moment to become wasted. You know you can always talk it through with him and he’d be more than happy to give you a chance, but, after all these times he left you speechless, it’s simply a matter of pride to pay him back. Besides… You really-really want to see his reaction if you told someone important those words. 

That you are his wife.

You hear a soft knock on the living room’s door where you and Ayato are sitting next to each other at one side of the low table.

“Lord and Lady Kamisato, the guests have arrived.”

“Wonderful, please let them in.”

The man notices your elation upon hearing those words and smiles to himself - your friends from another nation, whom you haven’t seen properly in ages, finally managed to reach the coasts of Inazuma and seek a meeting to reconnect with you and also meet your mysterious husband you’ve written and praised so much in your letters.

The scene is heartwarming. Two girls around your age are tightly hugging you with excited squeals while the man that came in together with them, patiently waits to be introduced. Ayato follows his example, watching your grinning face, filing away every single detail about it - the sparkles in your eyes, the rosiness of your cheeks, that adorable wrinkling of your nose when the girls say something cheesy, and the pure happiness written all over your visage.

“Oh, Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again after so long! So much happened…”

“Yes! We totally should discuss every single event! But I offer to start by introducing us and our husbands.”

“One of you got married?” You ask surprised. “I know that only one of you got recently engaged-”

“Me! But the wedding is so soon, that I already call him my husband, hehe. Oh, we brought the wedding invitation for you and your husband as well, I hope you two will make it!”

“Girls, girls, let’s calm down,” you laugh, pausing them and gesturing to the two men silently observing you - both pairs of eyes shining with admiration. “Ayato, my dear, I want you to meet my friends I’ve told you so much about…”

Your husband hears familiar names, ones he’s remembered long ago, and nods in recognition, offering each a kiss on the back of their hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet people my beloved holds in high regard.”

“Likewise,” they giggle, giving you teasing looks about how gentlemanly your spouse is, and you roll your eyes, but a smile tugging on your lips doesn’t go unnoticed.

“And I’ll take an opportunity to introduce our companion,” one of the women says, stepping closer to her fiance and offering everyone his name and a slight description of his field of work, to which Ayato hums with interest.

“And these,” your other friend gestures to you and your husband, “are Kamisato Ayato and-”

“Wife.”

Everyone falls silent and looks at you with confusion. You yourself are stunned, eyes slightly widened and heart skipping a beat. The word really just flew out of your mouth faster when you could think about it.

“Excuse me?” Your friend gapes at you, and suddenly it clicks. This spontaneous reaction, caused by your unspoken desire, presents you with a perfect opportunity. You finally can get “revenge” on your husband.

“That’s what I said, sweety,” with a smirk and boosting confidence you glance at Ayato and meet his lilac eyes, staring at you with a hint of amusement. “I am this marvelous man’s wife. You know, 'Kamisato Y/n' is way too long to pronounce. So, maybe just a wife instead?”

The silence reigns again, with the three of your guests clearly being in stupor and your husband observing you with an unreadable expression. But suddenly he laughs. Joyfully and sincerely, it plucks on the strings of your crazily beating heart. Instantly there are arms wrapping around your waist and lips pressed against your temple, and you can feel the smile he hides in your hair.

“Yes, that’s right… This remarkable woman is my wife. Most incredible and lovely wife.”

Turning your head slightly you manage to catch a soft blush dusting his porcelain skin, before he faces away from you. Oh Archons, he loves it and he is bashful!

As you fully turn in his embrace and start teasing him, loud enough for only the man to hear (you are not that cruel to embarrass him in front of people), your guests' existence is forgotten for a moment. Both girls sigh and look at the completely lost man, whose hand his future wife takes and rubs a thumb over his knuckles.

“Ah… Please, don’t mind that. She always had a strange sense of humor, and it seems that her husband only enabled it.”

That is true, but you look genuinely happy, so they can bear a week of occasional cringing.

Diluc

The annual harvest celebration has been a tradition in the Ragnvindr family for as long as the Dawn Winery existed. When Master Crepus was alive, it was hosted in the grand mansion with spacious halls and intricately decorated staircases, the one Diluc used to call his home. Guests would gather, wine bars would be uncorked and red liquid fill dozens of glasses, as he and Kaeya would curiously watch the adults interact, sneaking out of their rooms to spy from the hiding spots they knew so well.

But not anymore. Gone were the days of careless happiness he calls the past now, gone his father, gone the mansion, and gone his desire for active social interaction. It's been some years since his return and the sale of the mansion in attempts to run away from said past. The celebration came to a stop for as long as he was gone and then while he tended to re-establishing the business after arrival.

The Dawn Winery, despite all the maids and winemakers, would become so quiet. And it's not like he stayed there for long too - he was always somewhere, preoccupied by something.

That is until his life was shaken and turned upside down, and all by the hands of one single person. The person, who brought light back to his dark crimson eyes, who made him stop and think about how he can not just exist, but live, and happily so, waiting for every opportunity possible to be in the loving presence; the person who brought out that part of him he buried deep down in his graveyard of a soul, and gave it freedom to be again. The home actually started feeling like one, not a building he had a study and a bedroom in, but a place he could share with another, basking in the long-forgotten sensations, having his heart dance jigs and face soften in a tender gaze.

Many changes occurred, and, with some encouragement, he decided to bring back the tradition his father held in high regard, with only his sons' birthdays being more important to the late wine master.

The Winery is not as big as the family mansion used to be, but it is still enough space, with some of the furniture moved and the floor cleared, it can host many people. Besides, there is always a lovely outside with benches, and tables, and chairs, and it seems that Barbatos is kind to you, sending delightful weather as his gift.

Diluc is not a fan of social gatherings, however, he couldn't help but feel giddy when Adelinde exclaimed in elation at the prospect, be rather content when he saw happy smiles of the citizens - it's been a while since any proper celebration, and the monster rampage last month has been keeping everyone in a gloomy mood, and most importantly - he couldn't betray the trust and confidence his wife put into him.

…right. His wife. The ending to his reputation of the most eligible bachelor (not like he ever cared for the title), and the talk of the town for the past couple of weeks. Diluc Ragnvindr is a rather private man, and upon mutual agreement the wedding was private as well, with only few attending, and those few knew how to keep their mouths shut till the right time came. Or not, since one Cavalry Captain loves getting on the redhead's nerves and spilling some beans to the people who are willing to listen, and then not saying another word to create an intrigue.

So yes, this celebration is also a way to finally introduce the owner of the Dawn Winery's wife to the public, and put an end to all the speculations and maybe seal some lips that spew hatred towards the 'lucky woman', and there are a number of those.

You haven't been taking your eyes off the small group of nobles, standing almost in the middle of the first floor hall, loudly discussing the matter, inevitably drawing the attention of the ones not involved in the conversation, but standing rather close to them.

"I am telling you, she must be some dirty little thing, seducing our poor Master Diluc," the raven-haired tall man claims, elegantly holding a glass of dandelion wine in his long fingers. With his white and black clothes he reminds you of a dalmatian. Barking is almost identical too.

"You are right! She must be some commoner, too ashamed to show her face. If she was of a noble origin, the wedding would be grand and public," ah, and this bear-like looking man… you remember him - he was very active in trying to arrange a marriage of a very uninterested Diluc and his 17-year old daughter. You almost grimace at the thought.

"Oh yes! And we all know, that such well-known and ancient family as Ragnvindrs ought to have one of the noble daughters getting married into it," it is the first time you see this dramatically dressed woman, but even so you would've doubled in boisterous laughter if not the pretty dress Adelinde helped you lace an hour ago, that could potentially be ruined with the drink in your own glass.

You will yourself to tune them off for a moment and check on other guests. It quickly becomes clear that this conversation makes them uncomfortable. Some manage to entertain you though, by making fun of those nobles, parodying the pompous manner of their talking and snickering at that. 

Nevertheless, one shall put an end to this idiocy.

"Afternoon, good sirs and ma'ams," the group direct their gazes at you, approaching them with a polite smile and a glass absent from your hand. "I've caught pieces of your conversation earlier, and couldn't help, but feel concerned."

The derogatory gaze the woman throws your way doesn't go unnoticed, but you simply choose to ignore it.

"Is that so?" The 'Dalmatian' hums, as if condescendingly. "Are you worried about Master Diluc as well, young lady? Such compassion is admirable."

"Oh, I hardly worry about Diluc," some eyes widen at your lack of his title acknowledgement, but you once again ignore it. "I am concerned about you. You know it's bad manners to berate a person in their own house? I'd really advise you to stop talking, especially about the matter you seem to know nothing about. Not to make bigger fools of yourselves at least."

"How dare you-" the woman you haven't heard talking before, but saw her nodding a lot, with those huge feathers in her hair waving with each tilt of her head, starts gasping because of your 'insult'. "How dare you speak to us like that! A servant must stay silent until asked to open their mouth!"

"I am not a servant here, nor anywhere else," the assumption doesn't surprise you, since all the maids were allowed to wear pretty outfits even while doing their job - after all it was a celebration honoring them as well, they help the Winery keep running.

"When who in the Archon's name are you-?"

"Y/n Ragnvindr," a deep soothing voice rings behind you, so loud and clear, that it immediately shuts all the sounds in the room. 

Your lips curl in a wider smile, all the while holding the bewildered gaze of the woman who decided to pick a fight with you.

"Yes, dear?" His chest is now against your back and a hand, clad in a white glove, reaches for yours. "Are you done with welcoming our partners from Liyue?"

"Of course," the back of your hand is brought to his lips to leave a chaste kiss there, and only then you turn your head and catch a dangerous glint in those blood-colored eyes. He is pissed, but neutral face hardly betrays him. "I see we have a problem here."

"Mhm," you hum, not letting go of his hand and looking back at the tensed individuals, who were bad-mouthing you just minutes ago. "It surely isn't how we planned to reveal our marriage, but the situation called for it, I suppose."

"L-lady Ragnvindr, we didn't know-"

"Can these people be escorted out?" Your question interrupts her harshly, making her flinch. "They disturb other guests, and clearly do not know basic rules of respect."

"My dear wife," you can practically feel menace radiating off of his body, and voice dripping with smugness, "no need to ask me. That's your house as much as it's mine, and you contributed so much into organizing this event. So don't be shy to make your own decision."

"Well then," your smile gets even sweeter, contrary to your eyes that burn holes in their distasteful figures, "Get out."

Kaeya

"Hey pretty tits, hic! Argh, you come here often?"

You wouldn't think that a question like this was addressed to you, if the heavily smelling of alcohol man wasn't occupying the bar stool to your right, leaning forward in your direction. You slightly turn your head and suspiciously watch the swinging glass in his trembling hand, half full and threatening to spill the dark liquid. He really had too much tonight.

"...was that supposed to be a compliment?" 

Leaning back to avoid any unfortunate outcome, you give him an unamused look, finished with an arched brow. From the corner of your eye you can't help but notice Charles staring at the man. It is nice to know your good acquaintance doesn't ignore the possible trouble a drunkard can cause another customer.

But you can handle it.

"It was!" He exclaims so happily, childishly proud that you acknowledged the fact. Should you tell him he sucks at it? And that there is only one man whose drunk flirty compliments you'll ever accept, and even in a state like that he would manage to be good, putting a smile on your face? Right now though, the urge to grimace is stronger.

"...thanks," I suppose?. "And yes, I come here often to spend the evening with my partner."

At that his face visibly falls and you turn away, assuming it is enough to cut the conversation short, and concentrate on savoring your first drink of the evening. You ordered it while waiting for one particular Cavalry Captain, and even though it's not strange for him to come later due to astronomically fast piling up paperwork, today he seems to be particularly busy. Maybe you should purchase a bottle and come to his quarters?

Just before you could do just that, there is a hand sliding over your right hip and a hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. You don't even flinch or freeze, recognizing the alluring presence immediately and leaning back into the firmness of his chest.

"You are late, Kaeya."

A soft chuckle and a kiss to the temple make it pretty clear that the azure-haired man cracked your fake rebuke on the spot, knowing that you are not one bit angry at him, but actually really happy to finally have him here.

"I apologize, princess," another kiss, this time to your cheek, "work's been a bit tough. But I am glad to finally be here with my woman."

"Youuurr?"

Ah, you completely forgot about the drunkard to your right.

Turning to look at Kaeya's reaction, you are stricken by the star-shaped pupil gazing right at you - he hasn't even glanced in the other man's direction, instead fixated on you completely. And that is making wonders to your poor heart.

"Who's that, snowflake?" His tone holds curiosity, but you know your lover, and you know when he is ready to be an ass. You shouldn't encourage this, however…

You'd love to see Kaeya Alberich tell the suitor off for you.

"No idea. But he said I have pretty tits."

He hums at that.

"True, but I would've aimed for that delicious butt. I am a simple man, after all."

You barely slap his hand in time, not nearly as drunk to start touching each other right here and right now. At your jab in his ribs he simply laughs heartily, settling his palm back onto your hip and momentarily redirecting his attention to the troublemaker who's been staring at you two throughout the whole exchange.

"You are not from here, are you?"

Only when your lover says that, do you decide to take in the other man's appearance. Indeed, if you were to look longer at him (not like you were interested) it would be easy to guess Fontaine as his land of origin.

"And what?" He straightens his back and puffs his chest as if trying to intimidate. What a rooster. "Does it prevent me from pursuing a pretty woman from another region?"

Oh, so now it's not simply one flirting remark, but a full-blown pursuit? How troublesome.

"Oh no, no, of course not," honey is dripping off those pretty lips, pulled into a smirk. "It's just that otherwise you'd know it's a bad tone to hit on someone's ex-girlfriend."

Confusion appears on the pursuer's face and you look inquiringly at Kaeya as well. The only answer you get is a wink and a mouthed request to order him a drink. Still perplexed, you nevertheless turn to Charles and ask him to make the Cavalry Captain the usual. 

Meanwhile the man pulls his thoughts together.

"It's stupid! If she is your ex, then how does it not give me the right to date her? Ridiculous. Why do you even hold her like that!?"

The shouting gathers attention from other patrons - some were invested almost from the beginning, seeing how that unknown man tried to make a move on you, and snickering behind their mugs of alcohol at his unawareness of your relationship. 

And Kaeya is all for the show. Many eyes watch as an elegant hand wraps around the glass of his favorite drink and brings it to the silent lips. It feels like everyone stopped breathing and the silence is pressuring, like a string ready to snap and reveal some shocking truth. You, on the other hand, roll your eyes at the male's love for theatrics and put an elbow onto the counter and lean your cheek into your open palm. This is going to be crushing, you almost feel sorry for the guy.

When the Cavalry Captain takes the third sip and sighs in delight - then, and only then, - he looks dead into the other man's eyes, so oppressively that he shrinks under the weight of this cold gaze.

"Maybe because she is my wife?"

If it was physically possible, the drunkard's jaw would hit the floor. The glass, he's been holding just seconds ago, however, follows its destiny, breaking from the impact with floorboards and ruining the prolonged silence and earning a grunt from the barman.

"S-she's what?"

"His wife," you raise your hand and show the ring, getting quite tired and wanting to save at least some of this man's dignity. "So, if you could, please, let us two have our date night. Uninterrupted."

Finally it seems to have him sobered up a little and he starts profusely apologizing to you, to Kaeya, to Charles, to Barbatos and Focalors, while digging his porch with mora out to pay for his drinks and minor damage he caused.

When he stumbles outside and the other patrons stop following the drama, you turn to a contently sipping on his wine Kaeya, who is excelling the nastiest grin on his face.

"Ex-girlfriend? Seriously? That's how you call your wife now?"

"Well, technically I am not wrong, right? Since you are not my girlfriend anymore," he shrugs his shoulders, finishing the last few gulps and putting the glass back onto the counter. 

"Then the next time we meet new people I will introduce you as my ex-boyfriend. What? Technically you are," having his own words being thrown into his face makes Kaeya laugh, and he hugs you tightly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Deal. But only once, to make it even. I enjoy being called your husband way more."

[nadvs]

home before dark (part three)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

Rafe is sitting in a chair in the front room of your home, his chin resting on his hand, hardly paying any attention to the sitcom playing on the tv screen.

He’s pissed off. Why did it have to storm tonight of all nights, when he doesn’t have anything to numb the pain, nothing to drown out the sound of the rain drumming on the windows?

In his haste, he didn’t pack any coke before coming here. He didn’t think he’d need it this bad.

And that photo he saw upstairs. It’s making everything so much fucking worse.

This is how the world repays him for helping someone. Figures. He’s used to having shit luck. Trying to make his own father love him has been a losing game, and he’s been at that for years, so why would anything else go his way?

“Hey.” Rafe straightens when he hears you. You look into the room. “Did the thunder wake you up, too?”

He hasn’t slept at all. But he nods.

There’s a blankness in his stare, the tv casting dull colors over his face. He didn’t bother to turn the light on.

You cross the room, hazy from your interrupted sleep, and settle on the couch. You’re far away from him, acting like you’ve never touched, even though you were just pressed against each other on his motorcycle.

You wonder if it felt nice to him, too. Or if you were just extra weight on his bike, an irritating responsibility he was cornered into taking on.

“Do you have any booze around here?” Rafe mutters. You catch the desolation in his tone.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

You instantly feel ridiculous for expecting you won’t be met with the cold shoulder. You doubt he’ll answer. But then, because the world must be off its axis, he does.

“Fucking hate this weather,” he says.

His words make a chill sink into your bones. You remember your father telling you the news years ago after he got the phone call. A torrential downpour. The freeway. Zero visibility.

Anne lost control of her car.

By the look on your dad’s face, you knew what that meant. Rafe’s mother didn’t survive the wreck.

He doesn’t have to say it. You know that’s why he hates storms.

“I can distract you,” you offer, “if you want?”

It was something you did as kids. Rafe would be angry or sad or hurt or anything and you’d talk his ear off about whatever you could think of until the dark cloud hanging over him drifted away.

His feelings always felt too big for him. You were the best at making them small enough to manage.

Rafe is used to wanting to be left alone. But not right now. Not if he can be with you. Admitting it feels impossible. The wall he spent years building around himself is solid from both sides.

“It’s your house,” he finally says. “Do what you want.”

You take it an invitation to stay. You turn your attention to the tv, as if holding eye contact with him will make him take it back.

It gives him a chance to look at you. How the fuck have you not lost patience with him yet? Why do you still care?

“I keep wanting to ask why you’re helping me,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the tv.

Rafe exhales sharply, rubbing his forehead.

“This is you distracting me,” he scoffs. “Aren’t you supposed to do the talking?”

The fact that he’s expecting you to replicate the days of your youth gives you a sliver of hope that maybe he misses them, too.

“There has to be a reason you’re doing it,” you murmur.

“Can’t you just be happy that I am?” he responds. A white flash of lighting pools into the room for a split second.

“No,” you say. Finally, he gives in.

“Because I…” he begins.

The noise from the show is adding to the frustrating confusion engulfing him. He angrily picks up the remote and turns the tv off, plunging both of you in darkness.

You turn your head towards him again, only able to make out the hard outline of his jaw.

“I always had to look out for you,” he says. “I guess I still do.”

You look down at your lap, taken aback that Rafe holds any sense of loyalty for you.

You almost want to remind him of what he said earlier, that you’re not kids anymore, but you don’t want to challenge him.

“And I don’t know why,” he adds, voice thin, “but you’re not a dick to me like everyone else is, so I kind of owe you.”

All you can hear is your own breathing and the ticking of the clock in the foyer and the tap of faltering raindrops. The storm is passing.

“It’s because you didn’t do anything wrong,” you say into the silence. “It’s not like you did something to make me hate you. You shut me out, but I get why.”

Your words reverberate through him. He wonders if you think that he hates you.

Still, you could have gone to any other guy and asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend.

“Why’d you come to me?” he asks.

“Because he’s scared of you.” You don’t have to nor do you want to say your ex’s name.

“And you’re not?”

“No.” You tilt your head. “We used to be best friends.”

You say it like he wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t erase it from his brain if he tried. And he has.

The heaviness of all this is suffocating to him. The past is done. There’s no point in digging up things that’ll just hurt him all over again.

He stands up, chasing out the familiarity that was slowly growing between you. But before he leaves the room, he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose with trembling fingers.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, either, alright?” Rafe says into the dark, irritated, answering the question you asked him on the shoreline hours ago. “Not on purpose.”

As his shadow retreats, the words he left you with ring in your head. He doesn’t blame you. But you did do something wrong.

Rafe had his head buried into his pillow, throat burning from crying through his grief, every night for months.

As he lies in an unfamiliar bed all for a girl whose very existence makes him feel a multitude of good and bad all at once, he’s thrown back into those days, as if he’s a boy again.

His mother used to tell him it was a strength to be so sensitive, but her voice faded and his father’s voice got so much louder. What he tells him every time Rafe can’t swallow down the tears echoes in his mind. Toughen up. You’re fine.

But he’s not fine. He can’t stop crying and he knows he has to tell you he can’t do this anymore. Being with you brings back too much.

But the next morning, when Rafe finds you sitting at the kitchen island, wearing your pajamas and a smile, the prospect of ending this is tossed away.

You have access to him that nobody else does. You and that damn smile are a weakness that he didn’t know he had. And while he can act happy and careless around everyone else, he can’t put on an act for you. Ever.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask. Your hands are cupping a mug, your phone sitting beside it.

“Like shit,” Rafe replies, pacing to the fridge. “Took hours to fall asleep.”

You feel guilty that he didn’t have a good rest, considering he’s only here because you were too frightened to be alone.

“You?” he says after a beat. The ice must be melting if he’s actually asking about you for once.

“My sleep was good,” you reply. “It helped having you here.”

Rafe’s cheeks get warm. Someone actually wanting him around is a foreign feeling.

By the time your conversation was over last night, the rain and thunder had dwindled. It couldn’t have been the storm keeping him awake. Curiosity pushes you to figure it out.

“Was the bed uncomfortable?” you ask.

“No,” he answers. He finds a glass and fills it with water. His throat still hurts from crying last night.

You watch him, his presence commanding as he leans back against the counter opposite you. The dark, shallow bags beneath his eyes are illuminated in the bright lights above you. He looks exhausted.

“Was the room too warm? Or too cold?” you say.

“Can you relax?” Rafe huffs, his tone almost playful.

He isn’t about to admit that he can’t remember the last time he fell asleep sober. And he’s definitely not going to tell you that the last thing he thought about before finally passing out was that his cheeks burned from how hard he was wiping his tears away.

“The least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable since I made you stay the night,” you say.

His brows furrow as he takes a long gulp, tipping his head back.

“Nobody can make me do anything,” he replies once he downs the water. You know it’s the truth. It makes the fact that he’s doing this for you all the more meaningful.

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes loudly on the countertop. Rafe sees your face fall when your eyes drop to the screen. You read the notification for a moment, then sigh and shake your head.

“He emailed me,” you say incredulously. “I blocked him on everything and he emailed me.”

Rafe leans over to see if you’ll let him look for himself. You slide your phone towards him and he picks it up to read Ty’s message.

What you have with him isn’t real. We both know it. Let me prove that I can treat you how you deserve. Please. I’m sorry for everything. I love you.

A part of Rafe is concerned you’ll fall for it.

“What’re you gonna do?” he asks.

“Block him there, too,” you mutter. “He does this. He’s mean, then he pretends like he changed, then he’s mean again… It’s the same bullshit over and over.”

Rafe blocks him for you and places your phone on the counter. You bite the inside of your cheek as the dread you always feel when Ty contacts you floods your every sense.

The despair on your face makes Rafe’s stomach sink. The next time he sees Ty, he’s beating the shit out of him.

“He’ll stop, okay? I’ll make him,” he says.

You’re still skeptical. Rafe definitely scares him, but Ty called him a bullshit rebound last night. He wrote that what you have with Rafe isn’t real. You’re not fooling him. And you’re afraid he won’t leave you alone until he believes you’re actually in a new relationship now.

“Yeah.” You exhale slowly. “Doesn’t sound like he’s falling for this, though.” You motion between you and him.

Rafe has to take a moment to catch your meaning. Falling for this. Your pretend relationship. Right.

“I didn’t tell anyone it’s fake,” you say, afraid it somehow got out. “Did you?”

Rafe shakes his head no and puts his empty glass in the sink. He scratches the back of his neck and looks at you again.

“Do you want me to keep crashing here until your mom and dad get back?” he asks.

You hate that your mind goes there, but you wonder when the last time he said mom out loud was. You shake away the thought.

“Not if you can’t get any actual sleep,” you respond.

Rafe typically gets irritated when someone can’t make up their mind. He wants everything done quickly, so he doesn’t have to stop and think.

But this is you and even though you’re scared of sleeping on your own, you’re considering how staying here affects Rafe and it gives him a heavy feeling of shame. He spent years avoiding the only person who never abandoned him. The only person who still gives a shit.

“I’ll just leave my stuff here,” he says, making the decision for you.

“Thank you.” You mean it. The thought of someone being here with you is comforting.

As usual, Rafe ends the conversation quickly and abruptly, leaving the room. You soon hear the engine of his motorcycle rattling loudly from outside, the roar fading as he drives away.

You hoped that he’d at least want to hang out with you now. You don’t understand why you keep expecting more from him. It just hurts you every time.

You don’t hear from Ty for the rest of the day. You manage to run some errands without worrying you’ll see him because even when Rafe isn’t with you, you don’t feel as scared knowing he’s in your corner.

The days of the week mean practically nothing on the north side of the island over the summer. There’s a party almost every night, this time at a house just down the street from you.

You invite your friends to your place, drinking as you get ready, deciding to walk over to the party. You turn up already tipsy, finding yourself looking for Rafe even though you know you should only really be doing that if Ty is bothering you.

When you walk into the loud, crowded house, seeing you reminds Rafe of why he isn’t smoking or drinking or snorting anything tonight.

He’s had countless fights while wasted, but he wants to have a clear mind when he sees Ty. He needs to make the fucker pay and not give him a chance to get even one punch in.

You meet Rafe’s blue eyes every so often throughout the night, glad you’re finally able to have fun again because you know he’s keeping you safe.

The second Ty walks in, even though he hasn’t come close to approaching you, you make your way to Rafe.

You stand close to him, placing your hand in his, acting like a girlfriend to someone who is only doing this because he feels an overdue sense of loyalty to you.

Rafe stills for a moment before he laces his fingers with yours. His skin is hot, making your heart flutter in a way you know it shouldn’t.

“Hey,” you say over the music. His ring presses against your thumb.

“Hey,” he says tensely. He’s not used to affection, especially in front of people.

But this is what he signed up for. He needs to act like a boyfriend and he’s not going to fuck this up. It’s the first real responsibility he’s had that he actually gives a shit about.

His eyes land on Ty and his plan to confront him takes a backseat when he realizes he doesn’t want to let go of you. Right now, he’d rather have his hand in yours instead of using it to throw a punch. It’s like every touch you give him leaves a heavier impact than the last.

You immediately notice how tense Rafe is.

“Can you relax?” you joke, imitating the way he said it this morning. Your heart warms when his dimples appear, framing a smile he can’t stifle.

“I don’t sound like that,” he says.

“You sound exactly like that,” you reply with a laugh, picturing how tired he looked in your kitchen. “Please tell me you got some sleep today.”

Again, the concern you seem to have never lost for him appears.

“I did,” he says. He crashed in his bed the second he got home.

“How come it took you so long to fall asleep last night?”

Rafe’s knee-jerk reaction is to avoid the question. Especially if it’s you asking. But he can’t forget how shitty it felt when you brushed him off last night at the beach, so he pushes himself to answer.

“Just, uh…” He looks away. “Couldn’t turn off my brain.”

You gaze up at him. It almost aches, how badly you’d love to know what goes through his mind.

“When did this start?” one of his friends amusedly asks, pointing between you two. You notice Ty close by, his gaze sharp as he eavesdrops. Rafe notices him, too.

You squeeze Rafe’s hand tighter, clinging to him. He notices that his entire body buzzes when you do that.

“What, was I supposed to call you?” Rafe responds.

“I’m just saying,” his friend replies with a laugh, “it’s like all of a sudden, you got a girl out of nowhere.”

Alarm stings every inch of your skin when you notice Ty’s posture straighten in your peripheral.

“Don’t sound so surprised, asshole,” Rafe replies lightheartedly, gently pulling his hand out of your grasp to drape his heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him.

You follow his lead, wrapping your arms around his torso. The relief from how well he played it off and the comfort you get from how he’s holding you is overwhelming.

Rafe dips his head to speak into your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, his cologne fresh.

“Think he’s falling for it now?” he mumbles, voice lowering an octave. With the way he’s holding you, you might fall for it yourself.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You squeeze him tighter, not for show, but because you want to. You’ve wanted to hug him since the funeral, when he was a boy with bloodshot eyes in a crumpled black suit, but he never let you get this close.

He brings his other hand up to your face, cradling your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your cheek. His touch is so tender that you have to remind yourself it’s Rafe doing this.

You’re suspended, bodies curved together, cheeks brushing, like you’re playing a game to see who’ll let go first.

“And he’s staying away from you, right?” His breath is warm against the shell of your ear.

You nod, at a loss for words.

“Is he watching?” he asks. You can see from the corner of your eye that your ex is staring right at you.

“Mhm,” you hum with a nod.

At this point, Rafe is being selfish. This is close enough. You wanted him to act like you’re a couple and he’s done it. He can pull away now. Maybe he should keep his arm around you for a little longer, but he doesn’t need to be this close.

Instead, he lowers to press his lips against your cheek and you hug him tighter, and fuck, it feels so good that he misses it before it’s even over.

He can’t believe that his body yearns to be this close to you. You opened up the floodgates the second you put your hand on him the first time a couple of nights ago. How good would it feel if you were doing it for real?

You lean into his kiss. His lips are so soft. You wish you could feel them against yours. It’s all to make everyone think you’re actually together. You keep telling yourself that.

When your arms around him weaken just a little, you feel something at his back, protruding against your forearm.

Your eyebrows draw together as you pull back only a few inches to meet Rafe’s eyes, your mind going to the worst possible scenario. Your breath catches. It’s a weapon.

“What is that?” you ask quietly, nudging against the hard item tucked into the band of his jeans.

“What do you think?”

“Rafe,” you say. His jaw tightens. The moment is gone. The wall is back up. Your tone teeters on a thin edge, like you’re judging him.

“You’re surprised the psycho owns a gun?” he scoffs.

He didn’t brush off what Ty said like you thought he did. It makes your stomach turn that your ex’s lie actually stuck with Rafe.

You glance over to see Ty’s back as he storms out of the room. Part of you is relieved, but right now, you mostly feel anxious that Rafe believes a lie.

“I never called you that,” you reiterate to him quietly. “I’ve never said anything bad about you. You think you can trust what he says?”

“I’m not planning on using it on him, okay?” Rafe snaps. “Unless he asks for it.”

He wishes you didn’t notice it. If you didn’t think he was fucked up before, you do now. He’s pissed off and embarrassed and disappointed all at once.

You’ve been trying to reconnect with him for so long. If he gives in, you’ll see that he’s not even close to who he was when you knew him. He’ll just let you down.

He realizes he hasn’t kept his distance only because you’re a painful reminder of a time he wants to forget. It’s also because he’s sure you wouldn’t like who he’s become. And he can’t take the rejection.

You’re still, unable to believe that he actually has a gun. That he would use it. That these are the lengths he’s going to to keep you safe.

You haven’t lost contact with him, but Rafe checks out of the moment and pulls his arm away.

“He’s gone now,” he mutters. You get the message. He’s done pretending. You drop your arms and find your friends again.

Hours later, the party is dwindling, but far from over. Rafe has been sober the entire time, making him all the more antsy and irritable.

He thought he’d beat the shit out of Ty tonight, but he’s exhausted and he can’t stop shaking. Why the hell is he shaking?

Rafe loses his patience and approaches you while you’re dancing with your friends.

“Let’s go,” he says, holding your hand. The contact makes your head spin all over again. Even though you’d like to stay, you comply.

You notice Ty’s eyes on you when you leave. He’s pretending to be a good guy again, keeping his distance, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he cracks.

Once you reach Rafe’s motorcycle in the cool night air, he hands you his helmet and you take it without hesitation.

After the short drive, you walk up the steps to your front door together. But you soon stop in your tracks, eyes wide as you stare at the ground.

Rafe follows your eye line. Mud’s been tracked onto the porch in fragmented footprints.

“I can’t… I can’t remember if that was there before,” you stammer. “Did you see it this morning?”

“I don’t know,” he responds. He rushed out of here too quickly to have noticed something like that.

You look around, as if you can find an answer in the darkness surrounding your home. You would have noticed it after you ran your errands earlier today. Probably. Maybe.

It could have been you. Or Rafe. Or one of your friends.

Or Ty. He didn’t arrive at the party until late into the night. Could he have been creeping around your house? Why would he?

Rafe glances up to confirm that there aren’t any cameras aiming at the door. It pisses him off when he notices there aren’t any cameras at all. He quickly catches on that your breathing has grown faster.

“Come on,” he says, gently pulling you by the crook of your elbow. “Let’s go inside. It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t believe his own words, but there’s no reason to scare you any further.

“What if he was here?” you say, letting Rafe pull you to the door. He takes the key out of your hand and pushes it into the lock.

“Then I’ll shoot him,” he mutters.

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

The door swings open, prompting the security system to start beeping.

You flip on the light and enter the code as he shuts the door behind you. You’re so frightened and unnerved that you jam one of the buttons with the wrong finger, prompting a harsh error noise from the system.

“Can you do this?” you huff. You tell Rafe the five-digit code and he quickly enters it, arming the system again. You notice his hand is trembling.

“Are you okay?” you ask. You know it’s not from fear. Rafe isn’t afraid of anything. He must be high on something. “What’d you take?”

“Nothing,” he says with a humorless laugh. It dawns on him that his body is reacting to the lack of coke in his system. “That’s the problem.”

“What?” you ask.

Rafe sighs, double-checking that the front door is locked for your peace of mind.

“I can’t be wasted if that asshole tries me. I haven’t taken anything since last night,” he says. “But it just made shit worse.”

He realizes how messed up it sounds. How messed up it is that being sober for one night makes him shake like this. He has a problem. But he never really had a reason to get clean before now.

You watch Rafe checking the lock and like a riptide, everything crashes down on you at once.

The torment from Ty harassing you. The guilt from asking Rafe to take on this responsibility. The sadness from knowing that he’s only doing it because he feels a sense of obligation for you and wants nothing more.

“Bet you’re glad I have a gun now,” Rafe mutters. He turns to look at you, your expression grim. “What?”

“I don’t want to keep bothering you with this,” you admit, your heart racing with panic. “I don’t want you to have to sleep here and I don’t want you to have to drive me home all the time and… I hate that this is happening and that I had to drag you into it.”

His eyes travel over the anguish etched on your face.

“What, like it’s your fault he’s a piece of shit?” he says.

You chew on the inside of your cheek and look up to the ceiling, trying to keep your tears at bay. It’s still odd being alone with him, having him in your home.

Rafe hasn’t tried to make someone feel better in a long time. He hasn’t cared enough to. He takes a deep breath.

“I don’t mind doing this, alright?” he says.

“You don’t?” You take in the softness in his eyes that you don’t often see.

“Think I’d be here if I did?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “You used to do things you didn’t want to all the time for me.”

The Rafe that was your best friend always went along with whatever you wanted to play, wherever you wanted to go.

He grits his teeth, tearing his eyes off of you, trying not to think about how when he was a kid, if someone asked him who his favorite person was, he’d tell them that it was a tie between you and his mom.

“Don’t talk about how shit used to be,” he says quietly. And because he doesn’t want to see that hurt look on your face again, he adds, “Please.”

The mere prospect of talking about the past seems to actually give him pain. It dawns on you that you’re looking at a man who may have never processed what happened to him.

“Do you want something to eat?” you offer, changing the subject swiftly.

Rafe realizes he’s starving.

“Yeah,” he says.

A memory washes over you as Rafe sits at your kitchen counter, eating leftovers you heated up for him.

It was a humid summer day and you two were scarfing down the lunch his mother made for you after a morning of swimming behind his house.

Rafe always liked picking the wildflowers that grew in the grass that lined the beach for his mom. The ones he found that day were purple, sitting in a small vase she put in the center of the dining room table.

Every time he gave her a small bundle of uneven flowers, she had the same joyful reaction. Rafe always looked so proud of himself when she enthusiastically thanked her son.

It was just another happy day.

Until Ward came into the kitchen and like always, Rafe’s smile disappeared. Your best friend tended to shrink when his dad was around. Ward almost always found something to chide his son about. He never spoke like that to his daughters.

“Could you eat any faster?” Ward muttered. “Where are your manners?”

“Leave him alone, Ward,” Anne said with a sigh. His mother’s tone was only ever sharp when she was defending her little boy.

You remember watching her lean to kiss Rafe’s head, earning a small smile from him. Then she winked at you, trying to dismiss the tension from the room.

You wonder what Ward has said to Rafe ever since he lost the only person who stuck up for him.

You face the sink as you wash your hands, your back to Rafe, trying to stifle the tears that build as you imagine what the world would be like if the wreck never happened. Who would Rafe be if he never lost her? If a part of him didn’t die with her?

Is it crazy to think that you’d still be best friends, instead of two strangers pushed together in such an arduous situation? You miss her so much that it hurts and all this is yet another thing adding to the weight sitting on your shoulders.

Rafe hears you sniffle and when you finally turn around, you stare at the floor as you try to rush away.

“What is it?” he asks. Is he already failing at making you feel safe?

You freeze. You can’t tell him what’s really bothering you. Especially since he asked you not to talk about your memories.

“I’m just freaked out.” It’s not exactly what you’re thinking of now, but it’s true. This mess with Ty is a nightmare. “If he was really creeping around here… Ugh, I don’t know what he’s going to do next.”

Rafe chews slower as he observes you through narrow eyes. He’s no stranger to the pain of crying to sleep. He doesn’t want that for you.

You notice his hands are still trembling. You have no idea how often he does coke, but it must be an addiction if one night without it makes his body react like this.

“What else do you need?” he asks. It comes out sharper than he intended, like he’s asking what else you could possibly want from him after he’s given you so much.

Your lips thin as you stare at him from across the counter. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so miserable.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “Good night.”

You start to walk away but Rafe says your name to stop you and it sounds so good coming out of his mouth that your stomach numbs. When was the last time he said it?

You turn to look at him. His eyes dart down to his food.

“What if…” he begins, his fork loudly clattering against the dish. “Would it help if I slept in your room?”

You’re surprised. And soothed by the thought of him sleeping close by in case your ex does something as unhinged as break in.

Everyone else paints Rafe as rude and aggressive, but you knew it. You knew he still had some kindness in him.

“Yeah,” you say. “It would help.”

(part four)

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[007reid]

request for reader having dated spencer (early seasons) and then she finds out what happened w lila </3

hi hi hi!! sorry this took a while hun :( you were vague with your req so i just wrote whatever i wanted to write and because of that i meant for this to be a drabble but it didn't work out that way... enjoy!

secrets. spencer reid

part 1 | part 2

pairing: spencer reid x jealous fem!reader, 1.8k

summary: spencer will never be able to escape the effortless wrath of derek morgan, not even when it's the weekends and breaking bad is playing and you're pulling on his hair.

warnings: no smut you filthy animals, though i did intend there to be smut im just in a fluffy mood rn :// tiny angst if you squint, spencer's blushin a LOT, morgan's evil, bickering and just cutesy couple stuff. me when.

spencer’s secret was the last thing that you were, and you know this.

you and spencer have been dating for three months now, not including the two months talking stage because spencer is deadly afraid of commitment, and between all that time, you’d say you’ve gotten to know spencer pretty well. you know him well enough to trust that he knows what’s best, anyway. it’s been three months, and spencer hasn’t uttered a word about you to his team, his family, and you understand why.

really. you do.

“they’ll never let me live in down,” spencer had whined, one person imminent on his mind. derek fucking morgan. spencer dreads just thinking about it, the teasing, the inappropriate jokes, the winks and the whistles. it’s dehumanizing. “when someone ask me or mention something about it, i will tell them. until then…”

the unspoken reason was there. spencer’s a talker, definitely a talker, but he doesn’t spend much time talking about himself. he never reveals a bit of himself unless he’s directly asked it, and he feels uncomfortable sharing otherwise. the team’s too used to spencer being physically and emotionally repellent to the female race to really ask about stuff like you anymore, and spender’s not too eager to share neither. not out of the blue. it’s unlike him. this you understand. 100%. locked safely in the noggin.

you never think much about it anyway. it doesn’t bother you. what bothers you, though, is secrets.

you know spencer has loads of those, tucked behind that carefree and open-hearted smile and attitude of his. you examine him carefully, searching his face for ticks—okay, maybe you were just looking really creepily because he’s pretty and you try to commit every feature into memory but you are, searching for ticks that is.

you know he hides things. somethings not worth bringing up again because it’ll only bring up bad memories. some other things, however, definitely worth mentioning again. you just have to find the right target questions. sometimes it feels like you’re dating a stranger, with how little you know about spencer’s life. sometimes it feels like you’re dating the love of your life. it’s all very relative.

you and spencer are cuddled up on the couch, breaking bad playing on the tv. it’s one of the shows spencer doesn’t like pointing out the scientific inaccuracies of because he’s too fond of the main character to really say that he’s wrong, and sometimes you miss his voice chiming in between all the movie’s dialogues, but you think the reason why he’s quiet today is because he’s not in the mood to talk. the last case’s gotten him pretty shaken up, and he’s still healing, head in your neck every night and when he pulls away your skin is damp with tears.

“you okay spence?” you say, moving your hand to tangle your fingers in his hair. he hums softly, and then you both suddenly hear the vibration from under your asses. spencer shifts around, digging his phone out from where it’s lodged in a random cushion of the sofa.

he groans inwardly, showing you the screen, not having to explain. in big letters, the caller says: bau--derek morgan.

“he usually never calls me on weekends,” spencer frowns, watching the phone vibrate. “you think i should answer?”

“he’s a friend,” you say, tucking a stray strand of hair under his ear. “answer him.”

“okay,” spencer says hesitantly, then swipes the green button on his screen. he clears his throat as the call connects. “you’re on speaker,” he warns, looking at you anxiously and then back to his phone again. morgan’s a wildcard, and spencer would have to hide his face everyday for the next three weeks in front of you if morgan happens to drop something embarrassing about him just out of pocket. spencer isn’t ready.

“not like there’s anyone with you to hear,” morgan scoffs, and didn’t let spencer answer before continuing. “the team’s planning on a bar night tomorrow—“

“the team?” spencer questions, suspicious. morgan sighs loudly.

“garcia and i,” he corrects reluctantly, “are planning for a team bonding night tomorrow. what do you say?”

“no.” spencer says immediately, looking at you and hope you get his unspoken answer. spencer never goes out on weekends, not unless it’s with you. with his highly demanding schedule at the bau, it’s rare that he has any time off at all, and it’s hard to maintain a healthy relationship that way. any time he gets to spend time with you he’d take.

“come on,” morgan says, enthusiastically. “when was the last time you properly went out, huh?”

“last month, when you and garcia planned another of these team bonding bar nights,” spencer says monotonously. he rolls his eyes. “morgan—“

“don’t be rolling your eyes at me now, genius,” morgan warns. you stifle a laugh, and spencer sends you a wounded look. you forget that they’re basically family, like siblings to knows each other to a tee. “listen, have some fun in your life. who knows, maybe we can find you another lila at the bar.” morgan’s tone is suggestive. and now, that got your full, undivided attention.

and spencer, predictably, looks like a deer caught in the headlights, looking at you in horror was you narrow your eyes at his screen. you prod at his leg, prompting him to answer so morgan can elaborate.

lila?

“i don’t think—“ spencer starts, but got immediately cut off.

“don’t lie and say you didn’t like it, lover boy,” morgan whistles and spencer cringes. “now that we’re talking about lila, actually—“ spencer’s mind is screaming, shut up shut up shut up! as morgan proceeds to feed you more information, completely oblivious to his sins. “do you guys still keep in touch? she looked pretty into you. never knew you had it in you til then, man--”

by now spencer’s beet red head to ears to toe and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, but also off of yourself. you’d say you’re a jealous woman. not too jealous but definitely not not jealous.

“morgan,” spencer starts again, voice a little wobbly and embarrassed and morgan laughs.

“seriously though, do you guys still talk? them eyes never lie,” and morgan sounds so casual, so nonchalant while destroying spencer’s life.

it’s not that spencer doesn’t want you to know about lila. he couldn’t careless if lila waltz into his life right now because he knows they would be nothing more than friends—you’re all he’s ever wanted and he would trade you for nothing. it’s just embarrassing, is all, him being exposed like this, and he feels smaller, feels like he’s actually 5’3 with the glare you’re sending him.

“anyway, that don’t matter,” morgan remains completely ignorant and in his own world and still on speaker. oh morgan. “i want to see you at our bar tomorrow. it’s a yes, right? good. i’ll tell garcia you said yes.”

“morgan!” spencer says quickly. “i have a gir—“

morgan hangs up.

spencer dreads looking at you, so he takes his time getting out the app and then clears all of the background apps on his phone. he doesn’t like seeing you mad and he can basically sense it, the fumes blowing out your ears.

“who’s lila?” you say casually and he looks up. he doesn’t mistake your tone for friendliness, your eyes are narrow and suspicious.

“someone on a case a while ago,” spencer responds honestly. because that’s all there was to lila. it’s not like he’s never had his first kiss before her, so she doesn’t even count as his first kiss (she’s his second) and other than that minute-long moment they shared there was nothing else remarkable. she just happens to the only girl the team knows about who’s spencer been involved with and they are encouraging to help him find another ‘lila.’

it’s all very complicated. and humiliating. he should’ve definitely told you the entire backstory beforehand, because it’s not scandalous or weird or anything. it’s innocent and harmless. but now the problem seems to be blown out of proportion.

“just someone?” you press. spencer hesitates. he hates lying, especially when he’s lying to you. his hesitation gives you all the answer you needed.

“we kissed once,” he says, and gawks at you for approval, for forgiveness. “but that was it. i swear.”

something awful bubbles in your stomach. you know spencer’s not lying, and it’s not worth getting upset with him about because it’s all in the past—it’s not like you go talking about your precious conquests to spencer anyway. but you can’t help the envy and jealousy boiling so hotly it makes you dizzy.

spencer feels obliged to fill you in, to patch up the little bump and to get back the sweet atmosphere that was before morgan called. he knew morgan would somehow manage to ruin his life in some kind of way. he knew it before he even accepted his call.

“she was an actress in this case we were working on and she just, i think, really liked me or something and she was in a pool when i came to see her just to ask some questions and she just pulled me—“

his rant got interrupted by you seizing him to a rough kiss, hands coming up to rest behind the nape of his neck and nails unconsciously digging into his skin. spencer remains mostly unresponsive and soft, surprised and don't know how to respond. you keep prying, teeth digging into the soft of his bottom lip and spencer starts nipping at you back, gentle like he always is.

it frustrates you, how hard it is to be frustrated at spencer. you pull away from him and spencer tilts his head curiously, lip shiny and eyes looking at you like he's never seen you before and he just looks so sweet, so innocent and eager, like a precious pup. you roll your eyes, swatting at his chest, annoyance and jealousy and anger evaporating from you like a cloud.

spencer licks his lips and you collapse back into him again, returning to the position you were before morgan so unmindfully interrupted your weekend. breaking bad continues to play on the tv. long limbs wraps around you and spencer presses a kiss in your hair.

"i'm not going tomorrow," he declares.

"you should," you say nonchalantly. you cuddle up closer to him, turning around until the both of your are facing each other, wiggling your way on top. you begin to trace stars on the exposed skin of his shoulder. "and maybe you should bring someone with you. just to act as a guard for future lila's. maybe you can introduce that person too," you flick your hair behind your back and shrugs at spencer's amused smile. "it's just a thought."

"okay," he says quietly, eyes so soft. "okay. who do you suggest i bring?"

"that's for you to figure out, doctor reid," you say flippantly, turning back to the tv. "now shush."

[augustinewrites]

“you look lovely.”

the moment alhaitham says it, he knows it’s a mistake.

“thank you,” you reply a little tersely, gaze flicking to the group of nosy onlookers at his side before you excuse yourself and join nilou at a table across the tavern.

“what was that?” kaveh immediately questions, because the man is incapable of leaving anything unsaid. especially not after three glasses of wine. 

“it was a compliment,” he enunciates, as if he were talking to a particularly stupid animal. “i was simply being friendly.”

“you’re not friendly,” cyno scoffs, accusation filling the booth. “you hardly bother with being polite.” 

cyno isn’t wrong, because it’s no secret that alhaitham finds most people exhausting. he doesn’t willingly participate in idle chit-chat or schmooze for academic or political gain, like most of his colleagues. 

“it’s quite presumptuous of you to imply that i go out of my way to be unkind.” 

he just won’t go out of his way to make others feel good about themselves either. not when it was unprompted. people who talked just to fill space were annoying, and doing so just to be social was not one of life’s necessities. 

yet…he’s slipped up, and his friends are realizing that you’re the exception. 

“it’s not presumptuous at all,” kaveh argues rather dramatically. “you never even compliment me!”

“maybe i’m saving your compliment for when you move out of my house.” 

tighnari, ever the mediator, cuts in before kaveh can throw his glass of wine at his roommate. “okay, that’s enough. we all know where this is going.” 

kaveh turns his head with a huff that carries too much attitude for someone who hasn’t paid his half of the rent yet. alhaitham, being the bigger person, chooses not to say that, though. “i don’t understand why you’re all making such a big fuss about this.” 

“well, you weren’t just being unusually nice. you were also flirting,” tighnari said flatly. 

now, this is where things got complicated. he could easily annoy or gaslight - for lack of a better term - kaveh into dropping it. he could also bore cyno into leaving with a deeply boring dissertation on his disinclination for social interaction. 

but tighnari was a lot more perceptive and patient than people gave him credit for. “you did it last week too, when you called her elemental healing techniques extraordinary.” 

alhaitham had done that, and he’d forgotten that tighnari had also been at the bimarstan to discuss antitoxins with you. 

deflection seems to be the only correct way to settle this manner. “to assume that a man’s admiration of a woman’s skill can only stem from underlying romantic feelings is incredibly ignorant.”

“of course,” the forest watcher agrees. “but it’s clear to anyone with eyes that you do have underlying romantic feelings for—”

“are we going to sit around and speculate all night? or are we going to play cards?” the scribe interrupts. 

cyno and kaveh exchange a glance, and the look on tighnari’s face can only be described as smug. it’s not everyday that a haravatat scholar is bested in a verbal debate. 

_____

and if he ends up at your place later that night…well, that’s completely arbitrary. 

“you’re so obvious,” you huff, your hands yanking the hem of his shirt from his pants. “your friends were right there!”

his lips curve against your skin as he kisses up your neck. “so?”

“we’re supposed to keep this a se—”

he’s much too fast for you, moving up to press his mouth to yours, lips parting to deepen the kiss. 

yeah, yeah, he knows that you’re right and that fraternizing is frowned upon in the akademiya, but what can he say?

he just loves you a lot.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

CHAPTER FOUR WAS SO GOOD UGHH literally the only fanfic I have ever loved so much and wait for updates like this. Am so excited for the next one!!!

On the topic of finally opening requests, I was wondering if I could ask for head-canons of what a relationship with Seishiro and a female reader would be like. If we want to be specific, maybe related to the fanfic? Like, how you would imagine their relationship would have been like back when they were still in high school, young and with Nagi’s past soccer career and all. Don’t feel pressured to write this, and good luck with everything!😽😽

── DATING NAGI!

Synopsis: Headcanons about having Seishiro Nagi as your boyfriend.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Nagi x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Content Warnings: none really, just generally fluffy and silly

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON i hope you like where i go w the story in the future!! and hehe now that we’re in the past arc of peregrine you will actually get to see all of the nitty gritty details of their relationship in the fic itself so i won’t spoil it 🤫 but i love nagi ofc so i’ve added some general headcanons on what i think he would be like as a bf

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

no matter how the two of you get together, reo is somehow involved LMAOAOAO like bro is ALWAYS at the scene of the crime in some way shape or form just because i don’t think nagi would really pick up on the fact that he has a crush on you without outside intervention

it would also definitely be a jump scare when he confesses!! you would have zero idea it’s coming because he literally hasn’t changed how he acts towards you whatsoever

canonically he doesn’t really interact with a lot of people or have a lot of friends and he’s not aggressive with romance so i just don’t think he’d really know what the appropriate method of telling someone you like them is

would probably say some shit like “reo says i have a crush on you” and would be so nonchalant about it meanwhile you’re like “???” because you did not even realize he knew your name and also why is reo being brought up

i honestly think he would not be a bad boyfriend. yes he is lazy and unmotivated but he does what he needs to do and if something is important to him he generally puts in effort for it

that’s another reason why it would take him foreverrr to ask you out — he would have to like you enough that he realizes he does in fact want to have a relationship with you even if it is a hassle

he doesn’t have social media though so don’t expect there to be an official announcement that you guys are together or anything like that HAHA

he would probably forget to tell anyone that the two of you are dating and it’s not because he’s ashamed of you or is trying to hide you or anything he literally just does not care what other people think and would prefer not to talk them if possible so it never comes up

you’ll show up to an event with him and everyone’s like “omg nagi who is this” and he’s like “this is my girlfriend” and someone (probably otoya tbh) is like “since when have you had a girlfriend” and he’s like “it’s been two years 😐”

i think he would be fire at insulting people just because of how many video games he plays…that man has seen some of the worst sides of humanity

the world is lucky he’s a pacifist and avoids conflict because he has some vile stuff stored away (i will never be over him asking barou if he practiced kneeling because he’s about to make him his servant)

this particular quality makes him the BEST person to talk shit with

he’s not a gossipy boyfriend in the sense that he doesn’t have anything juicy of his own to contribute to the conversation but i’m pretty sure he mentioned he watches dramas at one point so you know he’s locked tf in if you need to complain abt someone

he will sit there and be so invested in the tea…def would not give any useful advice but he will make fun of anyone bothering you so you still end up feeling better

i don’t think he would get jealous honestly

the thought of you cheating on him doesn’t cross his mind at all because why would he date someone he didn’t trust fully???

i would say he expects the same from you because he would but at the same time he voluntarily talks to one (1) other person besides you and that’s reo so the opportunity for you to be jealous just wouldn’t even crop up

definitely super clingy and cuddly

loves being babied too

according to epnagi he has this whole automatic system in his apartment to clean and do laundry and i think he’d be fine if you appropriate that so no more cleaning!! but you will have to cook because that man literally only eats fruit jellies

genuinely how is he so built and not dying of malnutrition SKJFDSHKJ

he probably is terrible at coming up with date ideas so it’s up to you to plan things

again it’s not malicious i think for him just spending time with you is his ideal date!! like he doesn’t see the point in getting dressed up and going somewhere fancy when you could just eat at home and be comfortable together

but if it’s an important day or you tell him that you want him to suggest something for once, he WILL go all out (which means calling reo for advice and doing what he tells him to)

overall communication is key with him. he’s not particularly sensitive or in tune with other people’s emotions so being passive aggressive or expecting him to read your mind will honestly just end up making your mood worse because he will not pick up on the fact that something is wrong

but if you tell him what you want him to change he will happily do it!! he just needs to be told very clearly if you’re upset or need him to do something different

honestly it would be very refreshing. there are zero games with nagi and he doesn’t really try to hide anything — what you see is what you get 100% of the time

overall 10/10 would date idc haters dni he’s a sweetheart and he’s doing his best

[kaleldobrev]

It's Okay

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean's a little jealous that Sam still talks to you and not him

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Cursing (4x), Fluff, Slightly angry/jealous Dean

Authors Note: Takes place pre-pilot | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“Alright, I’m gonna secure us a room for a few nights and then call dad to see where the fuck he ran off to.” Dean said, his voice slightly full of worry, even though you knew he was trying to hide it. A million thoughts were running through his mind, all of which were worst case scenarios. These thoughts were ones that you knew he would never share because of this wall he had built up in order to protect himself, in order to make him not appear weak, vulnerable. You had told him time and time again that it was okay to be vulnerable, that it's okay to let the wall he built up to come down - even if that vulnerability was just around you. But you knew how hard it was for him, because the wall he built up had become hardwired or programmed into him - something you not only blamed John for, but the traumas that he dealt with growing up. As much as you wanted to tear the wall down, you didn't want to push or pry; it was something that he needed to want to do.

"Sounds good." You agreed. As he opened up the driver's side door to leave, your hand went to his thigh. "Hey." You said very softly, but stern. "John is fine. I mean, it's John for Christ's sake." You tried to reassure him in one of the best ways you knew how.

“I know but…” he sighed a little. “He hasn’t gone this long without checking in.” You sighed too, knowing that he was right. Although John wasn’t good about checking in, he would at least check in every two or three days - at this point, it’s been almost four.

“I’ll tell you what. When we get the room I’ll run us a nice bath. How does that sound?” You smiled, slightly patting his thigh.

You saw the slight hesitation in his face before he answered you. “Okay.” His response sounding weak, unsure. “Do you have the -“

“Yes I have the lavender shit.” You stated. Your hand moved from his thigh to his cheek now, and you looked him directly in the eyes, looking at him in that loving type of way you knew he loved - like you were admiring him. “I love you.” You said, rubbing his cheek gently.

He smiled at you weakly, trying his best, despite the amount of worry that he was currently feeling. He may not tell you all the time, but he was lucky to have you, lucky that you seemed to love him just as much as he loved you. “I…” he had wanted to say it back, but he struggled to get the words out. “You too.” He said, taking your hand that had been placed on his cheek and kissed your palm.

To some, it may have hurt their feelings that their significant other didn't reciprocate their feelings of love, but it didn't bother you that he didn't say the three little words that you so desperately wanted to hear. But, despite him not saying those three little words, you knew that he loved you just as much as you loved him; maybe more. He may not show that he loved you with his words, but he did show you through his actions - and that was enough for you.

As Dean was securing the two of you a room for the next couple of days, you decided that you were going to call Sam, hoping that he had gotten his LSAT score back. Going into the exam, he had expressed to you how nervous he was, but you had reassured him that he was going to do great. “You studied a lot and have worked so hard to get to this point.” You had told him.

Finding his name in your phone, you dialed it; the phone ringing for a bit before he finally picked up. “Hey Y/N.” His said, his voice sounding a mixture of calm and happy - something that had made you happy to hear. “What’s up?”

“Just calling to check in. I wanted to see if your LSAT score came in.” You said, trying to keep the same kind of calmness that he had.

“They did come in. Finally.” He chuckled a little. “I uh, you were right. I did do great. Well, better than great actually. I, I got a 174.”

“A 174! Holy shit! Sam! That’s amazing!” You genuinely were proud of him. “Isn’t 180 perfect?”

Sam nodded, even though he knew you couldn’t see him. “Yeah. 180 is the perfect score so, I was only six points off.”

“With a score like that, you can go to any law school you want to.” You stated.

“Yeah. Um, actually, I have an interview here next week.” He said.

“At Stanford? That’s amazing.” You smiled. “Think you could get a full ride again?”

“Jess seems to think so.” Sam said. “But you know how she is, she tends to see a more positive side to things than I tend to do.”

“And this is why you need to keep her around.” Although you had only met Jessica once, you genuinely liked her and thought that she was insanely good for Sam. There was such a positive energy about her that was honestly infectious.

“That’s the plan.” He began. “I…I started looking at engagement rings a few weeks ago.”

“Holy sh-Sam!” Again, another positive thing that was going on in his life that you were genuinely happy about. “When are you going to do it?”

“I was thinking about doing it after my interview.” His voice sounded so nervous. “So, in a few weeks.”

“Can’t believe Sammy is going to be engaged soon.” You couldn’t contain the excitement that you were feeling for him.

“I mean, that’s if she says yes.” He chucked nervously.

“You know she’s going to.” You said. “I know I only met her once but, I could honestly see how happy you two made each other."

He sighed, and it almost sounded sad. "She really does make me happy. I don't know what I'd do without her."

"You should...you should call Dean and tell him the good news. I know he'd be happy for you and...insanely proud." Your own voice sounding just a bit sad now. You hoped that this suggestion would go somewhere, even though it would probably fall on deaf ears.

"We aren't exactly the Brady's Y/N. You know that." At least you didn't get your hopes up with your suggestion.

"I know but...that doesn't mean they don't still care about Sam." You sighed, wishing that the two of them would talk to each other, as it's been over two years since one of them had said anything to each other. "I mean your dad -" before you could finish your sentence, Dean came out of the motel lobby waving the motel key in his hands, in addition to two candy bars. "I'll talk to you later Sammy." You said, before hanging up the phone and stuffing it into your pocket. "Hey," you said, jumping off the trunk of Baby.

“How is he?” Dean asked, knowing that you had just spoken to Sam. This is when you always spoke to him; when he wasn’t around, as if it was some kind of secret. But he knew why you did it - you didn’t want him to feel bad, to feel jealous.

You sighed. “He’s…he’s doing great. He got his LSAT score back today. He got a 174.”

“That good?” Dean asked, walking over to the trunk.

“Scary good.” You stated. Dean popped open the trunk and started gathering his things. “The perfect score on that test is 180.”

“Huh.” He grinned wide. “Such a nerd.” You could tell that he was just as proud as you had been when he told you the news.

“You should call him. I know you two miss each other.” You knew your statement was probably out of line, but at this point you didn’t care. It has been over two years since the two of them had talked and you were getting tired of playing mediator.

“No.” Was all Dean said as he slammed the trunk, the sound making you wince. “If he wanted to hear from me, he would call me directly. It’s a two way street Y/N.” His voice was frustrated, angry. He started walking away from you now, making his way toward the motel room.

You quickly jogged after him, your bag slung over your shoulder. “Have you even tried calling him Dean?” You asked. “I mean, have you actually, seriously tried?”

As soon as those words came out of your mouth he stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face you. The stopping was so abrupt you almost slammed your body into him. He looked down at you, practically towering over you - something that honestly scared you. “You really think he would pick up the fucking phone if I called?” He scoffed. “Don’t be stupid.” As soon as his words left his mouth your face fell, your lips turning into a slight frown. He started walking away again, but you didn’t move; you were frozen in place slightly staring at the ground.

You hated this side of Dean. It was a side you’ve seen numerous times but rarely was it ever directed toward you. “I’m sorry…” you trailed off, your voice incredibly low, almost as if you were talking to yourself.

Dean stopped again, and he sighed a frustrated sigh before turning around. “What did you say?” He asked, walking back toward you again.

You didn’t look up at him when you spoke again. “Was just…I was trying to help…I’m sorry.”

He sighed again. “Hey.” He said, his voice sounding calmer than it did before. When you didn’t look up at him, he tilted your chin up so you were forced to look at him. "I'm the one that should be sorry Sweetheart, not you." His tone apologetic. "I know you're just trying to help I just..."

"It's okay to miss him." Your voice still low.

"I know. I guess...I guess I'm just jealous that he talks to you but he won't talk to me." You could see the slight sadness in his eyes.

“Dean,” you began, taking his hand and giving it a slight squeeze. “He’ll come around.

“I doubt it but…” he trailed off for a moment before speaking again. “But it sounds believable when you say it.” He smiled weakly.

“Want to go take that bath now?” You asked.

“Yeah. And after can we…” He was slightly struggling to get the words out, and you weren’t sure if it was because he was embarrassed to ask or because he was emotional in this moment and was trying to hide it from you. He sighed. “Can we…cuddle?” He whispered.

You smiled, almost finding it funny that he had struggled to get the question out. "Of course we can. You know you don't have to ask." You leaned up on your tippy toes, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"Sweetheart?" He asked.

"Mmm?"

"I uh...I love you." A kind of warmth ran through your body, finally hearing the three words that you had desperately wanted to hear for a while.

"I love you too." You replied back.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[mrsjellymunson]

The Essence of You

Pairing: Steddie; Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember week 2 prompt ‘soft and slow’ | WC: ~7.3k | Rating/CW: E 🔞 SMUT, MDNI! Angst/conflict, big emotions, insecurities, mentions of difficult childhood experiences, hurt/comfort, oral (m rec), fingering (m rec), ball worship, scent kink/olfactophilia, cumming untouched, cum eating, aftercare | A/N: This is the longest thing I’ve written this fast - thank you for the challenge! I’d usually spend ages faffing and obsessing editing and proofing, so if you see any mistakes or missed warnings/tags LMK ❤️

My masterlist

Eddie isn’t having the best of weeks. It’s midsummer, and he’s been working hard in the shop with the only ventilation being the open front shutters and no breeze. His boss has been on his ass, and he’s been saddled with working on a particularly uncooperative Chevy for the past three days. 

It’s getting him down mentally as well as physically, but he doesn’t like to bother Steve with stuff like this. Their relationship still feels fairly new, especially for Eddie, who’s never had anyone stick around for as long as Steve has. He’s constantly anxious that Steve will eventually figure out that he’s a total nerdy, needy loser, so he keeps his feelings close to his chest. 

They’ve only been living together for about three months, and Eddie’s still adjusting to having someone other than Wayne around all the time. Particularly someone like Steve, who seems to care so much. He’s always getting close to Eddie, touching him, cuddling him. At first Eddie thought it was purely sexual. After all, that’s what most people wanted who’ve gone anywhere near him. But he also seems to want to do it for his own comfort, and Eddie’s. He touches him to say hello, good morning, good night, let’s cook, thank you, can I have one of your fries… Sometimes it’s just letting him know he’s there, or just for touching him’s sake.

And Eddie loves it, he really does. He hasn’t had that level of affection in his life since he lost his mom, and if he’s honest, he craves it.

But Steve often insists on doing it at the most inconvenient moments. Like when Eddie gets home from work. As soon as he’s through the door of their apartment Steve’s on him, nuzzling at him and demanding cuddles, when all Eddie wants to do is get in the shower and wash off the stink of the day. It’s got to the point where Eddie deliberately tries to avoid Steve when he arrives home, quickly breezing past whatever room he’s in and heading straight for the bathroom, locking the door before Steve can catch up, and instead enjoying the fresh cuddles he can indulge in once he’s got cleaned up and changed.

But today is different. It’s been especially hot, the Chevy has been an exquisite asshole, and he hasn’t eaten or drunk nearly enough. He’s grumpy, parched and irritable, and for some reason he’s decided that today’s the day he’s going to bring his dirty work hoodie home to wash it, the fabric slung over his shoulder not doing anything to cool either himself or his mood.

Instead of checking where Steve is like usual, he decides getting a drink is more important, and strides into the kitchen to grab something cold before heading out to wash up.

It doesn’t work out that way though, as Steve’s already fixing dinner, his shift at Family Video ending pleasantly early now that he’s in charge of the schedules. He’s in a sinfully tight pair of shorts and a tight shirt, and has a cute apron tied around his waist. On autopilot, Eddie’s insecurities barely register when he internally questions what the hell he could’ve done to deserve this Adonis of a man. He tries to be as quick as he can, but it’s no use, Steve’s on him before he’s even managed to close the fridge.

“Hey, baby. How was your day?”

Steve’s strong arms circle around Eddie’s waist and pull him in, and he pushes his face into his damp, disheveled curls at his neck and breathes in.

Steve’s voice turns gruff and he closes his eyes as he mumbles,

“Ohh, baby, you really need a shower…”

In his already-fragile state Eddie doesn’t take it well. Pushing his forearms against Steve’s shoulders, he tries to pull away, stuttering,

“Whaddayou mean? D’you think…?”

“What is it, baby? I’m just tellin’ you how you sm-”

Eddie’s protestations become more frantic, and he bodily shoves Steve away, his voice high-pitched and tremulous as he retreats, shouting,

“I’m not- I don’t- Get off of me.”

Suddenly on the defensive, he blurts,

“Y’know what Steve, fuck you!”

He storms out of the kitchen, flinging his hoodie violently into the laundry room on his way to their shared bedroom, the zipper making a harsh clanging noise against the metal and creating the perfect soundtrack to Eddie’s spiky mood. 

He kicks the bedroom door shut aggressively behind him, dropping to the mattress with his head in his hands, desperately trying to muffle the sound of his sobbing.  

Steve stands in the kitchen, stunned. He has no idea what he did to upset Eddie so much, but he’s concerned it might be because he brought up how he smells.

He tries to give Eddie some space, busying himself with small tasks in the kitchen, but he’s distracted and keeps dropping slices of carrot onto the floor, so eventually admits defeat and removes his apron.

He pads slowly towards their bedroom door, still uncertain of what he’s done and, especially, fearful of making things worse. But he’s unable to leave his boyfriend alone in such a state, especially one that he’s inadvertently created. 

He knocks quietly, murmuring softly,

“Eddie? Are you okay? Can I come in?”

There’s a few beats of silence. Each second builds Steve’s anxiety to the point he can barely stand it. He’s milliseconds from opening the door, but then he hears a loud sniff, followed by a large exhale, and then Eddie’s voice, trembling a little as he mumbles,

“Y-yeah. I guess...”

Steve pushes the door, slowly, still nervous of startling Eddie, and sees him sitting on the edge of their bed. He’s still in his work clothes. His overalls are pushed down and tied at his hips, his tank top, spotted with grease and sweat, hugs his torso and his slim waist, and his hair, tied up in a messy bun on top of his head, is loose and barely containing his curls. He sits with his elbows on his knees and his palms over his eyes. Steve thinks he’s an absolute vision, but decides to keep that to himself for the time being. 

He moves slowly towards him, still keeping his distance, though one hand comes up almost unconsciously, desperately wanting to touch Eddie, comfort him.

He stops himself, and instead, kneels on the rug in front of him. Gently, like he’s approaching a frightened child, he takes hold of Eddie’s wrists and encourages him to move his hands so that Steve can see his face. 

His attempt at a calm demeanour falters as he sees Eddie’s wet and red-rimmed eyes. He hates it - someone as beautiful as Eddie should never be made to feel like this, especially not by someone who loves him. 

“Eddie, what’s going on? Can you talk to me, please?”

Eddie tries to squirm out of Steve’s gentle grip, looking away from him and trying unsuccessfully to hide his face behind a few strands of loose hair.

“It- it’s nothing, shit. Just- leave me alone, let me get cleaned up, okay?”

He tries to rise, but Steve’s not having any of it. He leans forward, stopping Eddie from standing. He needs to know what this is about. 

“No, it’s not okay. Tell me what I did. Did I offend you? Talking about how you smell? It’s just that-”

Eddie cuts him off with a huff.

“It’s something from my childhood, okay? A- a bad memory. More than one memory, actually.”

He chuckles humourlessly. 

Steve stays quiet, but raises his brows, encouraging him to continue. Eddie looks into those warm, golden, puppy dog eyes, and suddenly the words come.

“It’s- They- After my mom-”

He takes a deep breath. Steve knows how much Eddie misses her, but never pushes the subject, preferring to let Eddie to talk about her whenever he feels up to it.

“There was no one to take care of me, I guess. My dad, h- he, uh, he didn’t care. He never washed my clothes, or told me to bathe. He just let me run around in my own filth. And I didn’t know any better until months later, when the kids at school started making fun of me. They’d run around pinching their noses, making disgusting noises and- and saying I needed to take a bath. You know what they called me? Mouldy Munson. So I guess I’m a little… sensitive when people comment on how I smell.”

Eddie huffs again, and the tears start falling freely. He doesn't even try to hide it now.

Steve’s brows furrow in anger as he imagines a younger Eddie, bereft and alone, and lacking even basic life skills because no motherfucker thought he was worth the effort. But Steve knows different. He’s sure he can somehow help Eddie realise his own considerable worth, even if right now he has no clue exactly how he’s gonna go that.

He takes a chance and moves to sit next to Eddie on the bed, close to him, keeping one hand wrapped tightly in both of his.

“Will you tell me about it?”

Eddie frowns.

“You’d really wanna hear about my shitty childhood?”

“Of course. I wanna know everything there is to know about you, the good things and the bad. They all mix together to make you who you are.”

Eddie looks at Steve then. It takes a moment, but after searching Steve’s face for the slightest hint of condescension or dishonesty, and finding neither, he decides to do the bravest thing he thinks he’s ever done. He takes Steve up on his offer. Relaxing an almost imperceptible amount, though Steve notices, he continues,

“Okay, well… That first time, I defended myself. Came out swinging, managed to take a couple of those fuckers down before the lunch supervisor came out, and hauled me away to the principal’s office. He left everyone else in the yard and didn’t once ask for my side of the story. I guess that was the moment I realised that the only person I could rely on was myself. 

“It was only after that happened a few more times that a teacher took me to one side, sat me down, gave me a drink and a cookie, and then another, and another, because Asshole Al apparently didn’t think feeding me was all that important either, and then asked me what was going on at home. I tried to play it cool, brush her off, knowing my dad would tan my hide if I said anything bad about The Munsons. But she saw through me, of course she did. I was a scrawny kid in filthy jeans and she’d heard about what had happened with my mom.

“So, she cleaned me up, sorted me out. She’d make games out of getting me to brush my teeth and take a bath, and she taught me how to do my own laundry. She’d challenge me to shirt-folding races, or cereal-eating contests, and, what a surprise, I’d always win. She even took me to goodwill, and bought me clothes that actually fit with her own money.”

Eddie snuffles out a chuckle as he remembers,

“One time, she gave me five dollars. Five whole goddamn dollars! I thought I was the richest person in the world. She told me to get some fun things for myself. Like toys, n’ shit. I didn’t even know what I was looking for. I chose some cars, a dragon figurine, a stuffed Garfield that was missing an ear and was way past its best. I picked up some wildly inappropriate books and comics that were either far too young or far too old for me, and she helped me swap a few things out. But when she saw I’d got a tattered copy of The Hobbit, and told her how much I liked the drawings and the ‘code’ on the front, for some reason she didn’t make me put that one back…

“And that’s actually where I got my first ever band shirt. She found a KISS one in the adult section, and said she’d heard me singing old rock’n’roll songs to myself so I should have it, that I’d grow into it. I loved that shirt. I wore it round the trailer until it was the right size for me to go out in, and then I wore it some more. And then, when it got too tattered, I cut off the arms and the bottom, and wore it as a goddamn crop top. I might’ve even worn it for Corroded Coffin’s first gig.”

Eddie’s eyes light up at the fond memories, and Steve smiles with him. 

But he’s just a guy, and he can’t help the feeling in his pants that comes with imagining Eddie in a short shirt that exposes his underarms and happy trail. He wonders if he’d ever consider doing it again, even if it was just for Steve.

But then Eddie’s face falls again, as he recounts,

“‘Course, all of that was lost in the fire. I’ll never forget that teacher though. In a lot of ways she saved my life. So, I guess I’ve been paranoid ever since, about how I smell, I mean. Which is why my deodorant is always finished faster than yours, and even though you have the most elaborate haircare routine in the Western hemisphere, it’s me who’s always running out of shampoo…”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand, hoping to reassure him, let him know he’s here for him, and silently thanking him for opening up and sharing all of this.

Eddie looks up and their eyes connect. Steve smiles softly at Eddie, and, after a brief pause, Eddie smiles softly back. Steve’s not running. And Eddie feels good, lighter. He thinks maybe this sharing shit thing might not be so bad after all…

It’s not all swans and roses though, as Eddie suddenly remembers his actions from earlier, feeling like he owes Steve an apology. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. For what I said. It just takes me back there, y’know? I kinda overreacted.”

Steve reassures him, taking his hand in both of his. 

“Oh no, baby, I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t know. You don’t talk much about your family, and…”

“It’s okay, Steve. It wasn’t your fault. I should’ve said something, not snapped at you like that.”

Lightening the mood, Steve responds,

“It’s okay. You know I like it sometimes when you’re a little mean…”

He dips his chin and looks up coyly through his lashes, and they both giggle again, remembering the other night when Eddie most certainly did put Steve in his place…

It’s Steve’s turn to look down now, as he decides, given that Eddie’s been so brave and confident, he’ll also reveal something he’s kept hidden.

“Look, the reason I was so scared that you were mad is because, well… I guess I need to make a confession of my own.”

Eddie’s intrigued, shifting on the bed to straighten up to Steve, his big brown eyes still rimmed with red, but flashing now, inquisitive and mischievous.

“Yeah, uh… I guess my childhood was… kinda the opposite? My parents were… fastidious. Everything needed to be perfect, to the point where my mom ended up practically sterilising the house on a daily basis. When I used to play outside, she’d make me strip off as soon as I came in, dump all my clothes in a boil wash and make me go straight to the bathroom and get in a hot bath. Sometimes she’d even hose me down in the yard before letting me inside. It got to the point where the fun of playing outside wasn’t worth the effort to get cleaned up afterwards, and I’d just not do much, staying indoors rather than going through all that, time after time. And when I got older, and especially after I met you…”

Steve smirks and his cheeks pinken,

“… I realised I actually quite liked the way other people smell. As in, their natural smell. And it made me feel bad, ashamed, like I was dirty, or perverted, or something. So, I never told you, because I thought you might, I dunno, say I had a weird kink or something. Which is stupid, because you’re so not like that.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to catch Steve’s gaze now, and he brings his other hand to cover Steve’s, squeezing it and smiling softly as if to say, no, I’m not.

“So… what I’m trying to say is… I actually really like it when you smell musky, and masculine, and, well, like you. And- and this is the weird part, especially when you’re all sweaty and dirty from a hard day's work.”

His brow furrows just a touch and his throat clicks as he swallows. It’s almost inaudible, but Eddie’s close enough to catch it. And the slight shift in Steve’s position as he moves his hips, trying to increase the friction provided by the folds in the denim at his crotch.

A smirk twitches at the side of Eddie’s mouth, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing, but is liking it all the same.

“Wait, really? You’re serious? You actually… like… the way I smell?”

“Oh yeah, the sweatier the better. Goddamnit, you have no idea what you do to me…”

Steve loses his composure, dropping his forehead onto Eddie’s shoulder and releasing one hand from their shared grip to roughly palm at his crotch, exhaling loudly.

Eddie can hardly believe this. The very thing he’s been trying to hide all these years is something that Steve actually finds alluring. He can’t help the stirring in his own pants as he looks at the effect this is all having on Steve, especially what’s going on beneath his hand.

Steve looks up again, takes in Eddie’s visage. He wants Eddie to feel special, wanted, like the princess he deserves to be. Wants him to feel every moment, every movement. Feel all of Steve’s love that he wants to pour into him and over him, until it suffuses every molecule of his being and dislodges and replaces all of the fear, doubt and self-loathing that Eddie has left and leaves him a breathless, glowing, sated ball of self love. He wants Eddie to feel the way Steve feels about him. Has always felt about him, if he’s honest.

He stands from the bed and shifts until his thighs straddle Eddie’s, lowering himself onto his knees, and lifts a hand to touch the side of his face. Smiling at him, he decides to shower him with even more compliments, hoping to overload him so much that he can’t help but believe them. He runs his thumb across Eddie’s cheek and lets his fingers tickle the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck, then leans into his opposite ear and begins the assault.

“You’re so beautiful, so gorgeous. You’re hands down the hottest person I’ve ever met, and you make my knees so weak.”

He connects his lips with the side of Eddie’s neck, just below his ear, and feels him shudder at the touch.

“You look so good, you’re like a fucking god.”

He kisses him again, more pressure this time, but still soft, and he allows his tongue to peek out just a little to kitten lick Eddie’s skin. He gets his first taste of the salt and sweat that he craves, and moans against Eddie’s alabaster flesh when he gasps at the sensation.

“And you sound so good too. Oh hell, when you’re under me, or over me.”

Another kiss, sucking gently this time, and Eddie moans.

“And when you sing? Fuck, you don’t want to know how many times I’ve nearly cum in my pants watching you at The Hideout.”

He’s pretty sure Eddie almost convulses at this. He huffs a breathy chuckle into his ear, and pulls slowly back to admire his handiwork. Eddie’s flushed a pretty pink, his lips rolled inwards and his brow slightly pinched, as if he might be holding something in, possibly tears. Steve holds his gaze, going in for the kill. He runs a fingertip over the damp curls at Eddie’s temple and his voice drops as he admits,

“I wanted you for so long, and now I can hardly believe you’re mine. I want to make you feel so good, I wanna worship you, slowly, and let you know how beautiful you are.”

Eddie breathes heavily as Steve leans in again, his swollen lips almost brushing the tip of Eddie’s round and pretty nose.

“But please, please, more than anything else in the world, I want to show you just how much I love your smell. Will you let me do that?”

Eddie’s voice trembles a little as he agrees, with a mix of nervousness and excitement,

“Y-yeah, Steve. I’ll- I’ll let you do that…”

Steve’s grin is so bright it rivals the sun, and Eddie feels a rush of warmth more intense than anything he’s felt before. Eddie’s less restrained than Steve is, and his hands lift from the mattress to grab at Steve’s hips, yanking him forwards, up his lap. As Steve’s crotch connects with his, both of them semi-hard now, he huffs out a breathy,

“Christ!”

Steve lets out a delighted whimper, enjoying the sensation, but resisting the urge to grind himself onto Eddie’s bulge. There’s nothing he wants more right now than to flip him, strip him and destroy him, but he musters every ounce of self-control that he has left and restrains himself. He’s pretty sure that if asked, Eddie would disagree and demand that Steve take him, roughly, obliterate his negative thoughts with thrusts, smacks, physical sensations, maybe even a little pain. But that’s not what he wants for Eddie right now. So, fighting every cock-driven impulse, he moves.

Soft. 

And slow.

His lips part slightly as he cups Eddie’s cheeks in his palms and softly, slowly, connects their mouths. Whenever they kiss it’s always like velvet and rose petals, and it feels like coming home, but today it feels even more special. Steve hums softly, and Eddie whimpers quietly. Steve moves, pursing his lips and changing position, but not taking it any further just yet.

Soft… 

Slow…

He intersperses his kisses with more verbal encouragement.

“I want to smell all of you,” kiss, “I want to taste all of you,” kiss, “I want you to fill my senses until I don’t exist anymore,” kiss, “I want to show you how much I love every part of you,” kiss.

Steve’s tongue peeks out to collect a little of the tangy zest from Eddie’s upper lip. There’s a moment of total silence and stillness, then the floodgates open. They both drop their jaws, wide, and plunge their tongues into the other. They dance against each other, pushing, dragging, moaning as they explore every inch of each other’s mouths. It’s messy and feral and noisy and tips them towards combustion.

Steve’s suddenly not moving so slowly, breaking the kiss and encouraging Eddie to kick off his boots and socks and shuffling him to the centre of the bed, pulling off his overalls and boxers and discarding his own garments with similar fervour, their hard cocks springing free and bobbing in the heat of the room. Steve straddles Eddie’s naked thighs with his own toned, muscular ones, his quarry left in nothing but his stained and greasy singlet. 

But as soon as he’s got him where he wants him, Steve takes a deep, calming breath, and resumes his languid pace. He pauses for a few moments before toying with the hem of Eddie’s tank top, pulling it up at a speed that turns out to be deliciously agonising for both of them. 

He moves it up Eddie’s rib cage, little by little exposing more of his torso, a soft smile spreading across his lips as he takes in Eddie’s glorious form. 

He runs his thumbs up under the fabric and over Eddie’s nipples, perked despite the heat, pausing at the one that has the silver bar through it, flicking over it like it’s a switch that’ll turn Eddie on. It’s definitely working. He can see Eddie’s chest rising and falling faster and deeper with every stroke.

When the shirt bunches at Eddie’s throat, Steve encourages him to place his hands above his head, and, pulling the garment off, Steve is treated to the sight of Eddie’s underarms and triceps, one of his favourite sights in the world. Eddie moves to bring his arms down again, partly because he desperately wants to touch Steve, but also because he’s still not comfortable exposing these parts of himself while he’s still feeling so… unclean. But Steve stops him, playfully lilting,

“Nuh-uh. You leave those right there for me, you hear me?”

Eddie swallows and nods, acquiescing to whatever his Stevie wants right now. Steve bundles Eddie’s shirt and presses it to his face, inhaling deeply. Eddie’s eyes flash wide, his insecurities bubbling up, but Steve lets out a satisfied mmmm and throws the ball of soiled fabric towards his side of the bed, explaining, 

“I’m saving that for when you’re not here, and I get lonely.”

Steve runs his fingers across Eddie’s collarbones and down over the skin of his torso. He's tacky with grease, sweat and motor oil, and Steve savours the physical evidence of Eddie's toil. 

He runs his hands up his sides until his thumbs graze the hair under Eddie’s arms. Eddie squirms a little, uncomfortable. Steve presses harder, rubbing his thumbs in small circles under Eddie’s arms, massaging the skin and playing with the soft hair. Eddie’s looking anywhere but at Steve, his eyes flicking around the room and his breathing erratic, and Steve can feel the tension in his chest and legs. He bends forwards and kisses down the centre of Eddie’s chest, licking at the hair there and moaning as he gathers the salty sweetness he finds. 

“Just relax, baby. Remember, I like it, and I want to do this. Don’t think about it, just feel it. How does it feel?”

Eddie relaxes slightly, closes his eyes. Steve continues massaging, and to his delight, Eddie starts to hum. 

“Hmm, feels good. Feels really good.”

Steve’s tongue flicks over Eddie’s pierced nipple, garnering him another hum. He moves towards his armpit, keeping one eye on Eddie’s face to make sure he’s okay. His eyes are still closed and he seems to be enjoying this.

Steve closes his eyes and inhales deeply, filling his lungs with Eddie's aroma. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Sweet sweat, body odour, motor oil, and the merest hint of the spray deodorant he used this morning. He can’t help but groan as he finally gets to live out one of his deepest fantasies, his cock bearing this out and bouncing away from his abdomen.

He exhales with a sigh, and Eddie twitches beside him, his breath tickling as it gusts down his flank. Steve checks in, just in case.

“You still feeling good, baby?”

“Mhmm, really good, so good…”

Buoyed by Eddie’s reactions, Steve inhales again, and this time on his exhale, still massaging Eddie’s armpits, he licks a long stripe down Eddie��s arm along his triceps, finally getting to taste what he’s admired from afar for so long.

Eddie full-on moans beneath him, his hips bucking up and brushing their cocks together. It’s a delightful surprise to both of them that he’s enjoying this so much, despite his reservations.

Steve licks again, and places wet, sucking kisses to Eddie’s underarm. He’s never tried to leave a bruise here, and if he hadn’t already promised to be soft, he’d be trying to now. He can’t help but push his own hips down a little, increasing the friction between them. The sensation and the joint groans they let out are almost enough to make him lose his self-control, but he’s determined to make this last.

With one last inhale, smaller than the others, Steve pushes up and kneels between Eddie’s thighs, spreading them wider.

He appraises his boyfriend, who’s now looking at him with a fond, but slightly stunned expression. He strokes Eddie’s thighs softly with his palms, almost, but not quite, skimming them up to where Eddie needs them the most.

He bends forwards now, doubling over and resting his butt on his heels, settling his head between Eddie’s thighs, another of his most repressed and hidden fantasies staring him in the face.

He pushes forwards, just slightly, and the tip of his nose nudges Eddie’s sack. He feels him tense, just a little, before relaxing again. They’ve played like this before, but Steve realises just how much courage it’s taking Eddie to be with him like this, and makes a mental note to congratulate him for it, when the time is right.

Steve moves forward again, and gently nuzzles Eddie’s balls, exhaling his warm breath over Eddie’s velvety skin and pushing his nose gently against him. He breathes in again, not as hard as before, just allowing Eddie’s musk to seep into him slowly.

Moving to one side, he moves with more vigour into Eddie’s groin, pushing his whole face into the crease between Eddie’s hip and pelvis. He takes a long, hard inhale, suffusing himself with his love’s aroma.

Groaning in a way he’s never heard from himself before, he sounds practically drunk as he mumbles against Eddie’s skin,

“God, you smell so fucking good…”

Indulging himself even further, he flicks out his tongue, and kitten licks Eddie’s sack.

Above him, Eddie huffs and whimpers,

“Steve, no, I’m- Haaaaah!”

His protestations are cut off with a moan as Steve takes one of his balls into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and gently sucking. Eddie tastes musky, salty and, to Steve at least, utterly delicious. He feels Eddie’s thighs tremble against his shoulders, and decides to add a little extra for him, moaning around this most delicate of organs and sending tantalising vibrations through Eddie’s entire body. He glances up to see that Eddie’s moved his arms, and is now covering his eyes with his palms. Good, he thinks, the less visual stimulation he has the more attention he can give to what’s happening elsewhere…

Steve releases Eddie’s ball and moves up to lick a firm, wide stripe up the centre of his sack, his turgid shaft and all the way to his swollen head. He flicks the tip over the ridges at the heart-shaped place Eddie loves so much, and then swirls his tongue over and around the divinely smooth skin of his swollen and leaking glans.

He tenses and points to dip into Eddie’s slit and collect the precum that’s beading there, letting out a muffled, “Aah mah ghaa…”, as the taste hits his tongue. A different kind of salty, but still so delicious, and so very, very Eddie.

Steve congratulates himself, he’s done well, but he can’t hold off any longer, and he takes the top half of Eddie’s cock into his mouth, sucking and swirling softly. He manages to stop himself from taking any more, knowing he still wants to take his time. He does allow himself to move a little however, sucking, feeling, tasting, basking in the myriad sensations that are filling his senses.

Eddie disobeys his orders and brings one hand down to rest softly in Steve’s hair, just needing to touch him, thank him, anchor himself amongst the familiarity of Steve’s thick, glossy locks. Steve doesn’t seem to mind.

He pops off of Eddie’s cock, licking along the sides of it a few more times and enjoying how it makes Eddie’s abs twist and twitch. He gazes fondly down at the pliant figure beneath him, wondering how he ever got this gorgeous creature into his life, let alone his bed.

Unable to tear his gaze away, he fumbles blindly towards the bedside cabinet, pulling out their lube and opening the lid with a click. He makes a show of squeezing far too much onto his raised fingers, knowing how Eddie loves to get messy, and it garners him a cheeky grin from the man beneath him.

Steve leans forward, placing one hand near Eddie’s shoulder to balance over him. He wants to enjoy Eddie’s reactions close up. Eddie spreads his arms wide; it’s more comfortable than keeping them above his head, still demonstrates that level of trust Eddie has for Steve, and it affords Steve the opportunity to take a lungful of Eddie’s underarm musk as often as he wants. And oh, he wants.

Taking another inhale, Steve slides a lubed finger between Eddie’s legs and runs it over that soft spot behind his balls, circling gently. The dual sensations of Steve touching him there and revelling in his odour has Eddie arching off the bed, a long moan leaving him. He thinks, no, he knows, he’s never been treated with such reverence. They’ve never gone this slowly before either, and it’s all combining to rile him up in a way he’s never yet experienced.

Steve licks Eddie’s chest again, and nips at his unpierced nipple, making Eddie emit the cutest little yelp of pleasure, before smiling at him as he runs his lubed fingers over the crease of Eddie’s ass cheeks, delighting in the soft flesh and peachy fuzz. He wants to kiss those perfect globes, suck them, slap them, mark them as his, but he knows he can do that another time.

So, slowly, he slides his fingers between Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie’s practically stopped breathing, his lungs are full and his breaths are so short and shallow they’re barely breaths at all.

Then, at last, Steve connects with his hole. Eddie gasps as the tip of one finger runs around it. Steve revels as Eddie twitches at his touch, before slowly breaching his most intimate area.  

Steve’s moves are shallow for a while, moving just one or two knuckles deep, until he can tell neither of them can take any more waiting, and he slowly plunges as far into Eddie as he can get. 

Eddie groans, his face contorting into ecstasy, eyes closing and his mouth relaxing into a soft O. Steve sighs at the sight, another one of his favourites. He curls his finger and finds Eddie's special spot with practiced ease, and Eddie groans again.

By this point he’d usually have at least two fingers inside Eddie, maybe even his cock, pumping in and out of him, not necessarily roughly, but certainly with more vigour than he’s currently doing. But instead he’s retaining his languid pace, dragging slowly in and out, gently gliding against that special spot, more than enough to excite him, but not quite enough to send him over the edge. They know each other's bodies so well by now that it’s almost impossible for Steve not to almost immediately give Eddie the most intense pleasure.

But he continues, 

Soft… 

Slow…

Watching his face intently, Steve asks,

“You doing okay, baby?”

Eddie’s eyes snap open, and he gazes into Steve’s glorious hazel orbs as he replies, earnestly,

“Oh fuck, Steve. I- I’m doing gr- great.”

Steve smiles again, adoringly salacious, and moves, folding himself so he’s kneeling between Eddie’s legs again. He licks messily over Eddie’s balls, his shaft, the creases of his hips, and Eddie shudders again, his cock twitching at being devoured so completely. Steve breathes in more of Eddie’s scent, almost hyperventilating, and Eddie revels in the feeling of Steve’s exhaled breaths as they flow over his cock, his abdomen, his thighs.

Eventually Steve reaches the top of Eddie’s cock again, and this time takes him fully into his mouth, sinking as far down as he can.

As he opens his throat and his nose hits Eddie’s pubes, Steve is in heaven, the combination of scents and sensations driving him divinely insane, his throat spasming around Eddie’s tip as he groans above him.

His own cock’s angry and red, and leaking an obscene amount of precum that dribbles down his shaft where it’s trapped between his belly and thighs. It’s begging to be touched, rubbed against something, pushed somewhere warm and inviting. But he does his best to ignore it, feeling it twitch every time Eddie gifts him the softest little moans and the loudest groans, knowing that tonight is all about Eddie, Eddie, Eddie… He’s filled, suffused, drunk on the feeling of Eddie’s cock, his heat, his scent, letting everything Eddie envelop his entire being. He indulges in the euphoria of being used by him, and making Eddie feel so, so good.

Eddie resists for as long as he can manage, but eventually he can’t help but move his hips up into Steve, fucking his face with reverent care. He knows that Steve loves it when he’s rough, but he’s trying desperately to take his lead and stay soft, slow, gentle.

It’s not long before Eddie’s whines become shriller and more frequent. He can feel those familiar sensations in his abdomen that tell him he’s gonna lose it, and soon. He moves one hand down to Steve’s chin, trying to warn him.

“St- Stevie, I’m so cl- Where d’you…?”

In response, Steve grasps Eddie’s hand and places it over his head, his hand over Eddie’s, their agreed indication that he wants Eddie to finish in his mouth. Just the thought of combining the musk of his sweat with the tang of Eddie’s cum is almost enough to send Steve over the edge himself. He redoubles his efforts and speeds up the movements of his fingers, still soft, still slow (well, slow-ish) and pushes himself as far down Eddie’s shaft as he can. He’s temporarily blocking his own breathing, but knows the payoff is going to be so, so sweet.

Eddie’s abs tighten, his back curves and his shoulders lift off the bed. He can’t hold off any longer, and with one, two, three more thrusts his balls tighten and his cock spasms. With a long groan he releases himself into Steve’s mouth, rope after rope of hot cum spilling into the love of his life. Steve splutters and swallows what he can, but there’s so much of it this time that some inevitably dribbles out the sides of his mouth, spilling down over Eddie’s balls. 

After a few moments of breathless euphoria, Steve pulls gently off and out of Eddie, placing his palms either side of Eddie’s hips and propping himself up on his arms to take a few deep breaths. Eddie slumps back against their pillows, grinning wildly and a high, lilting chuckle leaving his chest. He lifts his head back up to look down himself at Steve, and marvels at the sight. He’s cock-drunk and fucked out, hair a mess. His eyes are wide and watering, and his jaw is slack and drooling a mix of their combined fluids. Eddie decides it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Steve’s smiling back at him, and as he licks lasciviously around his lips to gather whatever he can he looks like the cat that got the cream. Eddie supposes that, in a lot of ways, he is.

After a few more breaths Steve starts to shift lower down the bed, his usual routine for when he’s going to get cleaned up. But Eddie stops him. His face falls, and he frowns at Steve.

“Wait, isn’t it your turn? You didn’t…”

Steve snorts, his bronze cheeks turning pink.

“Oh, uhh… Actually I did. Turns out your smell turns me on even more than I realised, cuz I kinda…”

He kneels up, spreading his hands wide and looking down at his crotch. Eddie follows his gaze, and is greeted by yet another divine sight. His naked boyfriend with his belly and thighs covered in smeared streaks of his own cum, his softening cock slowly drooping down onto the crease of his thigh, and wet, sticky patches adorning their comforter. Steve continues,

“I, uh… I guess we’re gonna have to do some laundry later.”

They both giggle.

“Yeah, worth it though. Fuck. You really like my, uh, scent that much, huh?”

Steve drags sweaty fingers through his own mess, and brings it up to show Eddie.

“See for yourself, big boy.”

Eddie quickly props himself up on his elbows, and looks intently at Steve, dimples popping in his cheeks as he smiles and drops his mouth open in an inviting gesture. Steve obliges, and pushes forwards, slowly running his fingers over his boyfriend’s tongue. Eddie sucks softly, closing his eyes and humming, revelling in Steve’s taste and barely believing that he’s had this effect on the man he loves, and the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen. He licks between his fingers for a few moments, before releasing him with a pop and a roll of his eyes, commenting cheekily,

“Go on then. I guess I can let you go get a towel.”

Steve does so, cleaning up quickly in the bathroom before getting them both a much-needed cold drink, which they both consume with satisfied sighs.

Eddie shifts over on the bed so that Steve can cuddle into his side, knowing it’s his favourite position. Steve angles his head to look up at Eddie.

“You feeling better now?”

“Oh baby, you have no idea…”

Eddie stretches out the last two words, emphasising his point and making Steve giggle a little.

Steve runs his fingertip up and down Eddie’s naked chest, focussing on his abs, skimming into his navel and tickling the top of his happy trail. Thinking about what Eddie told him earlier, he ventures,

“So, are you gonna tell me more about this crop top phase of yours…?”

Eddie’s voice becomes sweet and high, and playfully condescending, as he lilts,

“Oh, baby. You want me to wear one for you? I can do that.”

Steve’s cheeks flush pink again, visibly excited at the prospect of seeing Eddie dressed that way. Eddie’s voice drops husky and low as he continues,

“And you know what else? I’m gonna look forward to working on that damn Chevy tomorrow. Let it try me, make me fuckin’ sweat. For you, baby, all for you.”

Steve hums appreciatively into Eddie’s hair, pressing his hips just a little harder into Eddie’s thigh, his cock already filling out a little at the thought. 

Eddie drops a sweet peck to the tip of his nose.

“And if you happen to be in the kitchen when I get home, wearing that damn apron, and only that apron…? Well, let’s see where the evening takes us, shall we?”

Steve hums again, snuggling in closer to Eddie, and he soon drops into a light doze. 

Something has shifted this evening, and they both feel it. They’re no longer keeping aspects of themselves hidden, in well-meaning but misguided attempts to protect the other. What began as something accidentally painful has led to more openness, honesty, and a deeper understanding of each other, and a level of connection that has surprised both of them.

Eddie certainly has a newfound appreciation for the benefits of opening up, and sharing. And, he’s surprised to realise, a brand new perspective on his own natural musk. He thinks over everything Steve said. All the compliments, the words of adoration, and, yes, how he reacted to Eddie’s smell. His spent cock stirs at the thought.

They’re both still sweaty, sticky messes, and some degree of clean-up is definitely necessary. But for Eddie, this time it’s more about making them both more comfortable, rather than eliminating the discomfiting paranoia he used to hold.

A little while later he brandishes a delighted little smirk as he gently rouses Steve from his light slumber and proffers,

“Hey, baby. I think we both need to clean up a little. How about I show you how much I love you all over again, soft and slow… But this time, in the shower…?”

Thanks so much for reading!

Comments and reblogs mean the absolute world to writers, please consider interacting and sharing - it keeps us doing what we’re doing!

A/N 2: I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the idea of Eddie being helped by a teacher somewhere else, either in a fanfic or maybe even Flight Of Icarus (IDK, it’s been a while). I’d love to give credit/attribution for the inspiration so if you’ve seen it before or it was in your fic, please let me know! Also, the ‘Eddie pulls Steve up his lap’ moment was inspired by this art by @dreaminginpencil ❤️

A/N 3: Fun fact - this started out as my contribution for this month’s @steddiemicrofic prompt, ‘shower’. Make it 399 words? Yeah, right 😏😂 Copious thanks to @the-unforgivenn and @airen256 who helped me thrash it about and confirm it definitely needed it’s own story, ILY 💗

If you’d like to see more of my works you can find them on my masterlist. 

Tagging my usuals, thank you darlings 💋 (open, just ask!): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel

[so-long-soldier-writes]

The Light in My Darkness

damon salvatore x gn!reader | requested

summary: after your boyfriend's death, you fell back into old habits. now that he's back, you're having trouble kicking them again.

tags: angst, hurt / comfort, depression, s3lf h4rm, kisses

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i typically don't write for damon, however i feel comfortable writing this subject matter and i'm getting better with understanding his character. honestly, too, i rewatched s7 and i'm starting to love him even more. (i just love the traumatized characters.)

also, i'm not good at titles. my first title had the word 'put' in it, but i stared at it so long, it didn't look like a word anymore and i had to change it. i think i like this one better. i stg, titles are half the reason i take so long to post. whew, anyway... enjoy ❤️

“Stefan needs help at Whitmore,” Damon says hurriedly. He puts his phone in his back pocket and sighs. “Another Enzo situation.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No, you stay here. I don’t want him anywhere near you, given he’s in one of his moods and would hurt you for no reason.” He gives you a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He speeds out the door a moment later, leaving you alone in the large, empty house. You sigh. Your life is so full of supernatural drama, it’s hard to keep up. Honestly, you’re not even sure what the situation is with Enzo, or why he and Stefan hate each other so much, or how Damon knows what to do to de-escalate their arguments. Of course, Caroline debriefed you on it sometime ago, but with all the craziness happening lately, it pretty much went over your head. 

It’s been hard these last few months. Only recently had Damon returned to you from four months after being considered dead, alongside Bonnie, as the other side collapsed with him in it. Those months had been the hardest of your life, and you doubted your ability to make it through them. Losing your best friend and your boyfriend was something you never thought you’d have to endure, yet it happened. Losing them almost killed you, too. 

For three years, you were clean. You hadn’t touched a single blade since you and Damon got serious. He gave you a reason to stop without even knowing it, and with a lot of patience with yourself, you managed to kick the addiction. After he died, though, when you couldn’t bear to live without him, you picked it back up. Part of you is pissed for falling back into your old ways, but the other part has convinced yourself it’s what you need to do to survive. 

When he came back unexpectedly, you were filled with just as much panic as you were joy. You had him back, but had relapsed majorly, and now have to recount your old steps into being sober again. It hasn’t been easy. 

It’s been a couple days since your last time, and while your skin’s no longer bright and swollen, it seems to beg for your attention. You have to plan it carefully, making sure Damon will be gone long enough that he won’t sense the fresh blood. When he grabs your wrists to kiss your face, you don’t want to flinch in slight pain, or let him pick up a chance in your heartbeat. 

It’s such a complicated addiction to have when dating a vampire, yet fighting the urges are so hard, sometimes you can’t help but give into them. 

The blades in the bathroom are ready for you when you enter. A brand new pack sits in the drawer. The boys won’t miss one or two. The one time Stefan did notice, you blabbered a quick lie about needing one to scrape a bit of food dried to the stovetop. He was in such a rush that day, he didn’t catch any lie, and you were able to smile and flee the scene a moment later. Since then, you make sure to hold onto the one you have until there’s enough to not see one missing. 

With everyone seemingly involved in the Enzo situation, you don’t bother to shut the door completely before dragging the blade across your skin. The boarding house is empty, and this bathroom in particular is tucked away nicely behind the stairs. You make a few scattered cuts and watch the blood seep from them. It always seems to calm you in the most grotesque way, and, quite ironically, gives you the perfect dopamine rush that raises your spirits despite the pain. It’s a terrible addiction but with a high reward… until you have to hide the evidence. 

That little reminder makes you sigh. Too many scars are hard to hide, and with Damon back, you have to be careful. It would break him to see you this way; that thought alone makes you put down the blade. For a moment longer, you stare at the tricking blood, committing the sight to memory to maybe fend off the next urge. To imagine the blood on your skin may convince yourself it’s there, and maybe you won’t cut the next time you’re so desperate. Maybe. 

You reach for a piece of toilet paper to dab the wounds. The bleeding needs to stop before you crave another scare. It’s so tempting, but-

“Hey,” Damon appears suddenly, peeking through the door. His eyes are narrowed, as if sensing something’s wrong. “What are you doing?”

You turn to face him and hold your hands around your back quickly. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” He opens the door a little wider, seeing the reflection of your hidden hands in the mirror. “Let me see your arms.”

“I’m okay.” Nervously, you pull down your sleeves to hide your wounds as much as possible. Your eyes meet the floor, unable to lie if you look into his blues.

“No, you’re not.” He argues, anxious to see your face; to not let you shy away and avoid his gaze. His approach makes your heart race, confirming his worst fears. “Let me see.”

“I thought you were leaving. I thought Stefan needed you.”

“He does, but he can wait.”

“But-”

“You’re my first priority. I can tell something’s up. Please,” he brushes a hair away from your face, “let me in.”

“Damon, I’m fine.”

“You’re hurting, and I can smell the blood, and I’m really trying hard not to freak out right now.”

You huff at the realization that he could smell it. You should’ve waited for him to be gone longer before breaking your skin. “Promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Just promise me.” Tears well in your eyes, but you let them fall, unwilling to take your hands off your sleeves. 

“Y/N, I promise. I could never be mad. Just let me see it.”

Slowly, you release your sleeves, but leave the task of rolling them up to him. You can’t bear to do it yourself. Damon takes one hand gently and pulls the sleeve back. Upon seeing the numerous cuts, he pulls the other back with a little more vigor, but is still careful not to hurt you. He stares, unable to speak or move, as his heart breaks with every passing second. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. His eyes meet yours and you finally break down into tears. 

Without a moment of hesitation, he pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms protectively around your body. You feel safe in his arms, you always do. Damon has a way about him that always makes you feel safe, no matter what anyone else thinks of him. He’s loyal and understanding, and that is part of the reason you feel so horrible for not telling him this. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, now sobbing into his chest. 

Your heart beats and reminds him that you are alive. The cuts made into your skin weren’t deep enough to take you. The pain you have been feeling hasn’t swallowed you whole. He concentrates on your breathing, and your crying, and uses it to anchor himself before asking the thousands of questions flooding his mind. 

He pulls away, finally, and wipes your tears with his thumbs. His hands grip your shoulders with a gentle desperation, as if he’s afraid you could dissipate at any moment. 

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

Your heart feels heavy as you reply, “honestly, no.”

“Why not tell me, Y/N? You know I love you. If you’re hurting, I want to be there for you.”

“I know… I guess I just didn’t want to disappoint you? Some part of me was embarrassed about it, and I didn’t want you to see me differently because of it. I don’t know.” 

“Baby, there’s nothing you could do that’d ever make me love you less. Nothing that would ever make me feel a different way, or see you in another light.”

“I know. I know my feelings are totally irrational, I just… they’re fears.”

“I understand.” He kisses your forehead, then releases your shoulders to hold your hands and kiss them, too. “Hey, can you promise me something?”

“I can try.”

“Come to me the next time you’re feeling like you want to hurt yourself, okay? Let me help you through it.”

“But-”

“It doesn’t matter what’s going on, or who’s texting, I will drop anything and put you first. But you gotta let me in when you need it. Okay?”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now,” he pauses, biting into his arm and holding it out for you to drink. His other hand meets the back of your head, stabilizing your neck to keep you comfortable. 

To his dismay, you refuse. You try to pull away, but his other hand prevents that, so you look down instead. “I can’t.”

“Y/N…”

“The scars are a reminder that I bleed. As soon as they fade away, the urge returns, but if they’re there for a little while, the urge is less strong. They’re kind of a comfort, I think. A reminder.”

“So you don’t want me to heal them?”

“I’d rather not. They don’t bother me too much. Do they bother you?”

You can see the hesitation in his eyes. He fights with himself, knowing the sight is a reminder of your pain, but understands their existence helps you heal. After a moment, he shakes his head. “No, baby, I only care that you’re safe.” He kisses them one more time. “Have you eaten much today?”

“Not really.”

“Well… do you mind if I make you something, even if it’s just something small, and then we can sit together on the couch? We’ll take today slow.”

“Okay. Wait, but what about Stefan?”

“Caroline can handle it. Then he’ll be in her debt and she’ll be happy about it,” he jokes.

You smile, appreciating his humor despite the somber mood hanging above both your heads. He’s the light in dark times, the much needed laugh that breaks the awkward silence. It’s part of the reason you fell for him so quickly. 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. And thank you.”

He pulls you in to kiss your forehead, then reaches for your hand. “Of course.”

[dearanakin]

trust you | anakin skywalker: episode IX

Summary: You and Anakin seem to be having a peaceful relation, compared to how it was like a few weeks ago.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, FLUFF!! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!!

Word count: 3.8k

----

Louise:

We were sitting in a booth at the bar, celebrating Cal's birthday. He invited only a few people, and it surprised me he was brave enough to talk to Anakin — who didn't even say a word, his face was already denying the invitation. But my friend managed to convince him to stay, at least for a while.

I was sitting next to Adeline, who had Poe Dameron on her other side. While Kestis was sitting in front of her, next to Poe's friend, Finn, and Anakin facing me every once in a while. All of us were having a drink, eating snacks and chatting about anything.

It was very noticeable how Anakin was feeling uncomfortable being here with us. He could barely hold eye contact with any of them, and when I would dart my eyes over him, he would dodge it and stare at his drink like nothing happened. He was holding his glass with his flesh hand, thumb running over the rim, while the other one was resting on the table. The line formed on his lips was looking the same for several minutes, and obviously I noticed that because he hasn’t touched his drink ever since he closed his mouth after he spoke for like five seconds. 

Adeline nudged my arm with hers, her mouth coming to my ear “You think Finn is single? He’s a charming guy” 

I chuckle at her words and shake my head. Finn is a nice man, who we found out served the First Order before joining the Resistance. His dark skin is pretty smooth and he has a few scars over his face. We haven’t learned much about him, except that he and Poe became best friends after their missions together. 

“You’ll have to ask him” I smile as I sip on my strawberry flavored drink. I promised myself I wouldn’t get a lot of alcohol, because the hangover always hits me the next day. 

I look over Anakin, who’s still sitting idly watching as the guys talk about whatever it is, because I can’t be bothered to listen to their subject. Poe points his hand over Skywalker and his eyes flicker between him and Cal. Now that I’m listening, they were talking about the day those battle droids broke into the Temple. 

“Your kid was here too?” Finn asks in disbelief, after the pilot starts explaining the story, looking at Anakin. He lifts his hand up to his lips, barely agreeing when he downed the rest of the drink. 

“He went after Luke because (Y/N) went back to hide themselves” Dameron seemed to be chirpy even though the situation was completely opposite to it. But I guess it’s because he almost never gets to fight like that. 

Anakin placed the glass over the table, still holding it for dear life. His body language practically screams that he’s uncomfortable and he’s trying his best to disguise the fact that he would rather be anywhere but here. And then he nods again. 

“And the weirdest thing is that he didn’t leave (Y/N/N) behind” Cal chimed in and we all shot our heads towards him. “Because he can’t stand her” 

I don’t know why he still keeps bothering me and Anakin with the same thing over and over. It’s been a while since that happened and I’m past it. Kestis didn’t seem to have the same feeling, since he’s always bringing it up and making conversations about it when it’s not even necessary. 

I see how Anakin stiffens his body and holds the empty glass tightly around his flesh hand. Finn is about to comment over his statement, but I speak first. 

“Cal, just get over it. It’s fine, and even if that was true, he stayed and helped me” I try to make it less awkward, especially when we have a guest that barely knows the rest of us like Poe does. 

The redhead just shrugs and grabs a mouthful of snacks, as Poe keeps narrating everything that happened to him while I was following Skywalker that day. And of course, Anakin would hate to admit to anyone that he didn’t hesitate to help me that day. Especially after we got to the medical bay when he held my wrist and comforted me. 

We keep laughing and talking, still ordering food and drinks and I can already feel my face blushing from the alcohol, which can never be good. Adeline is trying to flirt with Finn, who gives her smiles and looks away when he feels a little shy. Anakin didn’t seem to care if he was drinking the content all at once, ordering another one when a waiter or a waitress walks by. I don’t think he can manage alcohol very well, given that he doesn’t seem drunk at all and if he is, he’s hiding it very well. 

Poe starts reminiscing the first time he and Anakin met, when Luke was still a baby. They were on the same mission coincidentally, and the pilot helped him get back to the Temple because he was beaten to a pulp, he’d lost his lightsaber and his clothes were trashed.

I don’t know how the conversation took a turn, but Dameron mentioned Order 66 for a reason, because the Resistance was called over to help knock the troopers and the others down. I don’t remember much about it, because I wasn’t living here by the time it happened. 

“That was when he killed younglings, wasn’t it?” Cal questioned without hesitation. I feel my stomach turn to a knot, and the aura between all of us changed when Anakin broke the glass, turning it into pieces. 

We all watch in surprise as he stands up from his seat and leaves the table, his boots heavily hitting the floor as he vanishes through the bar. I look over Kestis, who’s still deadpanned, and I raise a brow at him.

“What the fuck was that for, Cal?” I sneer and my voice cracks. I’m not defending Anakin for what he did, obviously, but that was just really insensitive of him to say. 

“Isn’t that the truth?” He fires back and leans his elbow against the table, shaking his head and leaving a sarcastic laugh. “What, now you’re gonna feel bad for the man that killed children?”

I’m just glad Anakin just left before he could hear all the shit Cal was talking about. I don’t even give him another response, getting up from my seat and following the Jedi to wherever he went. From my back, I can hear Dameron and Adeline scolding him, both really mad at his words. 

I walk through the small crowds of people spread around the bar, looking at every corner to find any sign of him, but it’s a failed mission. I have no idea where he can possibly hide or if he’s even at the bar anymore.

The next best thing was to ask the bartenders and waiters for information, but they ask for credits before giving an answer. Mercenary dickheads. One of them tells me he went to the back door that leads to a secluded bathroom. The room is mostly being used by the employees. 

I walk towards the place, facing the closed door. So much for nothing. I roll my eyes and take a sharp inhale, I need to control myself before I get to convince him to open it. But the second my hand grazes the doorknob, he speaks through a shaky tone. 

“It’s unlocked” He says while still doing whatever he’s doing in there and I push the door open. 

He’s standing in front of the sink, washing his bloody hand and picking what looks like glass shrapnel, hissing at the touch. Anakin seems to be having issues with getting rid of it since he’s using his robotic hand, the pads of it not doing the work it should. His head is hanging low as it almost touches his chest and I watch his shoulders tense up every other second. 

“Let me help you” I take a step next to him, trying to hold his hand into mine but he pushes it back. 

He doesn’t say a word, only bringing it back under the faucet. Anakin likes it difficult, he makes it a challenge to deal with him but I’ve already learned his demeanor. I know when he’s willing to piss someone off or threaten them, and that’s not it. He’s probably disappointed and feeling guilty, but I can feel his body language change when I’m close to him for a reason. 

“Anakin, just let me” I try again, this time gently cupping his hand with both of mine. I look over his scraped skin, most of it with only a few superficial cuts. He gave in with a sigh leaving his lips. 

I tried to pick up the smaller pieces carefully, my eyes focusing on every inch of his skin. I noticed how it’s littered with fainted scars along his palm, a few of them deeper than the others. He clears his throat, ripping me off of my distraction. My fingertips from my left hand keep my hold on his, while my other ones are finally removing the shrapnel left.

I lean his hand again under the running water and grab a towel to cover it. It’s probably not even sanitary to do it, but it’s the only thing that can keep the blood from coming off again. I can hear his heavy breath above me, his eyes gazing at both of our hands. 

“Why do you always do that?” He asks suddenly, making me snap my head back to look at him. 

I furrow my brows at his question and tilt my head “Do what, exactly?” 

“Do this, help me. It’s not the first time” Anakin rasps, his voice is deep and he carries a different look on his face. This one I can’t decipher. 

“I do that to everyone, I guess” I shrug, knowing that isn’t exactly the truth. I like to help out people I know and care about. And for some reason, I feel like he needs someone to be around and help him, care about him. 

Anakin shifts his gaze at me, his eyes scanning mine. He definitely knows what I’m thinking about. “No, you’re lying. Why are you here with me?” 

He doesn’t raise his voice or tower over me, even though he still has a frown over his face. 

“I just- I guess I care about you” My voice is wavering slightly, and I feel nervous. 

He purses his lips and closes his eyes for a second. Opening them, his pupils are dilated and I can barely see the blue in there. “Why? I mean, why do you care? I’ve been nothing but a dick to you lately”

Did I ever think about why I really care? I don’t even know if I even have an answer to that. Which he realizes and uses his free hand to reach over my upper arm and hold it. The touch makes my skin shiver and my heart race. 

What the hell is happening to me? I wasn’t supposed to feel it that way. The way he scans me over and slides his tongue over his bottom lip, like he’s trying to read me. I watch with wide eyes when he takes a step over to me, still squeezing my arm gently. 

“I feel like you need someone to care about you” My words come out stuttering and I curse myself for saying that. “I think no one really knows how it feels like to be miserable and have people looking at you the wrong way” 

Anakin doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he reaches closer to my face and lowers his head as our foreheads almost touch. He still breathes heavily, his breath hits my face and I don’t know where I should rest my hands so I keep one of them on his hand. I felt a shockwave strike my body when I noticed his robotic hand sliding up to my collarbone until it reached my jaw. 

His thumb ghosted over my cheek and I felt like they were burning red from the reaction, while I tried to hold his hand against mine for some kind of support. 

“Stop” He barely whispered, his eyes were still holding my gaze. I feel like I have a lump in my throat. “Stop feeling sorry for me, I don’t like that”

My brows crease in confusion, even though I know why he would feel as though someone would pity him. “I don’t feel sorry for you. I empathize with you, I know it’s not easy to live like this”

Even though I don’t know what the hell is happening, my words are more than valid and I make sure I don’t lie. I never saw him as a killer, as much as people would consider him given everything he’s been through, all I saw him as was a broken man trying to pick up what was left for him. Every day he was dealing with his regrets, his sorrows. 

I would see him debating against his own anger and rage, and not one living soul would stand up for him enough to show him that he can be forgiven. Anakin is looking for his redemption, his forgiveness, but no one is willing to give that to him. 

On the other hand, Poe has been a good friend. He knows what Skywalker has been through since he was younger, he still looks up to him as a role model, because he knows the Jedi never gave up on everything he worked for even when he fell apart. Poe still thinks there’s a good man inside and he tries to make the best of it when he jokes around and reaches a hand over to him, knowing Anakin won’t always accept. 

This is what he needs. Maybe he doesn’t need someone romantically, he just needs someone to reassure him that he’s still worth being a Jedi. 

“Then stop that too. I don’t need any of that” He shakes his head, but his look says otherwise. He’s fighting against letting someone in. “I don’t want that. I don’t want any of it. I can’t trust you” 

“Look at me, Skywalker” I use my other hand to grip his chin and lift his face up a few inches enough for him to look at me “I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you to give yourself a chance to see things differently” 

Anakin struggles to look at me, snapping his eyes closed. This time, he leans in and finally rests his forehead against mine. From where I’m standing, I can see his Adam's apple bobbing as an attempt to swallow his pride. This is how I consider this, he’s trying to be conceited about it and I know how much he doesn’t trust me. 

“I can’t do that, not anymore. I- I just can’t” He still shakes his head and his nose almost bumps into mine. They're merely inches apart at this point. 

I drag my hand over his neck, hesitantly placing my thumb against his skin and he shivers. I don't think he likes to be touched or even knows anymore what it feels like. I'm not even sure it's a good thing, but I do it anyway. 

"Yes you can. You just need to try to" I whisper under his face. If we both lean in, we kiss. It's not an option for us now. Or ever. 

Anakin heaves, his fingers tangling over my hair behind my ear. He pulls back a little, only enough for me to raise my head to look up at him. "I'm not fixable" 

His words sort of sting of how broken they sound. I glance at his creased brows and how they must hurt. 

"It's not fixing, there's still hope in there"

When he purses his lips, I feel his hand leave my hair and I immediately miss his touch. This time is light and soft, it’s not brutal. But I still keep mine on him and inch closer to his cheek, leaving a chaste peck on his skin. 

"Stop beating yourself up, Anakin. I'm not the only one who cares about you" My lips are curved into a shy smile, trying to cheer him up "Let's get this cleaned and wrapped up" 

I distance myself as soon as I notice him stiffening from my kiss. It's better to not cross any boundaries anymore than that, because I don't know how much he can handle this sort of closeness. 

He takes me  to his loft instead of the medical bay, which I didn’t get why but also didn’t argue. When I offered him for us to go to my place, his demeanor shifted and he just shook his head, meaning he still didn’t trust me. That was enough to know he still wasn’t willing to let people in, and while he accepted my help, I just wonder why he would do that in the first place. 

I don’t question myself too much about that, because I’m the one who’s taking care of the guy who once threatened me and made me fear for my life. Things took a turn quite quickly this month. 

This is the first time I step into his loft, a place quite big for just two people besides the two droids they have around. The room doesn’t have much decoration and the walls are kind of dull, but I won’t judge because he doesn’t care about that kind of stuff either way. He walks to his bedroom, leaving me in the living room, and I notice R2 is scanning the entire place for a threat repeatedly.

I hear Anakin shuffling in his bathroom looking for his first aid kit, and I start fiddling with my fingers, nervous that I’m once again alone with this unhinged man. Worse of it compared to the other times, is that I’m in his house now, no one would hear me outside if he just decided to kill me. 

What if he’s looking for tools to use against me instead? I know he has clues of what he should do when killing a person, but would he just do it or torture me instead? 

God, stop it. What if he can sense my nervousness and listens to my insane thoughts? If Cal can do that, he can do that too. 

Anakin walks back a minute later, holding a box full of med kits. I’m surprised to see there’s even a suturing kit, to which I have no idea how to use because I was never in that class.

He sits next to me and I look between him and the box, inhaling sharply as I lift myself up from the couch and look over the kit. I separate the gauze, saline solution, and cottons to clean up his wounds that aren’t bleeding anymore at this point. He extends his hand for me to grab it, and I hold it carefully while taking off the towel that started to stick on his skin. With the wet cotton, I start to clean the bloody cuts slowly rubbing it over his palm. 

Every few seconds I shift my gaze at him to see how he’s dealing with that, but he seems unfazed while looking directly at his hand and not at me. I pat the area dry using a gauze and reach for a roll bandage to cover his injuries. 

The silence is almost uncomfortable, if it wasn’t for the beeping sound of Artoo scanning the loft. I bite my inner cheek before I speak up. “I’m sorry about Cal”

Anakin clears his throat, the sound echoing through the place. I look down at him and watch as he glances up at me. “It’s not your fault he’s a jackass. He’s jealous of you”

I startled at his words and my brows shot up in surprise. What did he just say? My hands halt when I try to pick up on what he tells me. “Jealous of me?”

His lips leave a light chuckle. “He likes you, (Y/L/N). It’s pretty obvious the way he cares about you and gets defensive when it comes to you”

I’m still confused as to how Cal likes me given we’ve been friends for years and he never told me anything. Am I that stupid to never notice something like that? 

“I never really noticed it” I finish bandaging him, my hands leaving his palm. He takes a quick look at it before looking back at me. 

“We’re force sensitive, we feel each other’s emotions, as much as I dislike the idea and try to shut it down” 

“So you can literally tell what I feel or think?” My voice comes out sort of desperate, because I don’t think I can deal with the fact that he knows what goes through my head. 

The way he snorts makes me feel a little exposed. 

“Sometimes, but I had shut that down a while ago. It’s different with the Jedi, don’t worry” He gets up from his couch and gathers the stuff from the medkit and leaves the room for a second. 

I take a few steps towards the door, still confused about Cal’s feelings. “Still, that doesn’t mean he can act like an asshole to you. This is about me, not him”

Anakin steps closer to me in front of his door, before opening it up for me. “He’s protective over you, I was once in his place before. I’m not a victim either, you know”

I nod, remembering how void of emotions he was when he decided to come back to Coruscant after losing Padmé. After all those years, now I see how far he’s come. He shields himself from having feelings, but I know he still has emotions. And it would hurt him to show it off again. 

He opens the door for me with the force, it sliding off completely. That was the sexiest thing I’ve seen so far. We stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, my cheeks burning from the eye contact and my hands becoming sweaty. 

I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. 

“I’ll see you around” I try to mask the raspiness of my tone, giving him a shy smile as I take a step out of his loft. 

Before I could leave, Anakin gripped my wrist softly with his metal hand and I looked at him. His brows were creased, but his face wasn’t contorted in anger or anything strange. He shifted his gaze at me for a few seconds, pursing his lips. 

“Thank you” He says in a husky voice, giving my skin a squeeze before pulling off. 

I’m too stunned to say a word so I just nod at him again and give his wrist a squeeze, mirroring his action. Anakin didn’t seem to notice he just let out a sided, but subtle smile seconds before I finally turned around and left him standing at his door.

@adorbzliz @himesuedi @kingdomhate @cl0esblogg @littlecoffeenerd @readingthingsonhere @js-favnanadoongi @twilightzone24

[starythewriter]

Vinnie hacker X Y/N: casino night

TW: rough sex.

“You can tell me anything. You know that right?” He asks softly from where he sits on the edge of her bed. She turns towards him and looks into his eyes, “I know. I trust you. And this isn’t something we need to worry about right now.”

Her heart is racing. The adrenaline rush she felt last week when she realized that Vinnie was back in town, the one that made her run out of her apartment at 3 am with only a pair of pants and shoes, the adrenaline still running through her veins as if she had just gone a round in an Olympic match, or even during their first kiss. It feels good knowing that there's nothing to fear anymore. That no matter how much her heart flutters, her brain will always manage to keep a cool head under pressure. It makes it easier to think rationally. But it also means that they have more time together. She needs all the time possible because there are so many things she wants to ask him before the next couple of weeks pass by without them talking for any longer than necessary. There are so many things she wants to do. She wants to take his hand. She wants to kiss his neck again. She wants to be able to hold his hands in hers. but vinnie hasn’t been around ever since he left… but he’s invited me to a casino night. Her stomach drops at the idea. She knows he wouldn’t do that if he didn't want to see her. But he’s probably going to see other people. She has no doubt that his reputation is enough of an attraction for most women to go to the casinos with him. Especially given how well known he is. If someone sees us, we won’t have any privacy anymore. The thought leaves her feeling slightly nauseous. She doesn’t know what would happen if they were caught. What would happen to the rest of their lives? She knows they aren’t married, but if they get caught, what would their families say? Would they disown them? she tried to shake that feeling off… she accepted the offer and prepared her gown. This might be our chance to prove to the world that we’re not broken. We don’t need to hide behind anyone’s expectations. She can’t help thinking that if it’s just them, then maybe she could be able to make her feelings known. She can try. She’s willing to risk everything. She’ll follow him tonight if it means seeing him again, even if it’s just once. If he wants her, then why should she be scared? She tries to convince herself that maybe she’s getting ahead of herself. Maybe this is the best thing to do. Vinnie has never done anything to hurt her and she knows that he really loves her. Maybe they should just go to the casino and dance and talk and maybe even make out on the table. She can handle that. She has to. She’s not afraid of Vinnie. She wants to know the truth. She just doesn’t know where he stands anymore. If he wants her too. she got ready.

*timeskip*

*morning*

it was the next morning and she was scared. however she had already got ready. she got a call from

him as she ordered her taxi and was on her way to the event. She had no choice but to accept the invitation since she was already there, so she decided to meet up with him after he arrived. she was sitting at the bar when she saw him, a smirk playing on his face. she couldn’t resist smiling back, even though she was nervous. Vinnie approached her, “hey. Sorry I haven’t stopped by to see you sooner. Been busy, y’know. You look great, by the way” he smiled, putting his arm around her. she relaxed at the gesture. she let herself lean against him. “Thank you. You look very nice yourself.” she turned towards him and kissed his cheek, “are you okay?” “yeah just… wondering about what the press will think” she sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the bar in front of her. she looked over to Vinnie who seemed to be deep in thought. “I’m sure they won’t bother you. They know you’re a player, remember?” he chuckled. She nodded, looking down at her drink. he leaned closer to her, “come on… let’s dance.” she nodded and stood up. They danced slowly, trying not to step on anyone’s feet. When she looked over Vinnie’s shoulder she noticed some reporters watching them intently. she quickly glanced back at Vinnie, “maybe we should sit somewhere else.” He agreed and sat at another stool at the bar, motioning for her to come and join him. she took a seat opposite him. “this place is amazing, y’know. I haven’t been here in forever.” She shrugged. “It’s a small place.” she commented, taking a sip of her champagne.

she slowly brushed her fingers across his crotch teasing him. she knew exactly what buttons to push to make him squirm. she could feel his dick growing hard underneath his clothes. she loved it when he was turned on. it usually ended up making him forget about their problems, especially when he came.

he placed his hand on top of hers, “Y/N, if you continue like this, I will lose control.” He breathed heavily. she smirked and moved her hand further up his leg, caressing his thigh. “I promise that I won’t touch your penis unless you want me to” she teased. she ran her hand across his cheek and down his neck. he shivered and licked his lips, “what did you have in mind?” he asked. she leaned towards him and whispered in his ear, “I’ve always wanted to see you come.” she pulled away and gave him a seductive smile. she bit her lip and watched as he swallowed thickly, “i want to fuck you right here… right now.” She laughed, “oh yeah? what are we waiting for then?” she replied with a seductive wink, “how do you feel about going to your room?” he suggested, leading her upstairs.

Chapter 2

Chapter Two: the room

The room wasn’t big, but it was pretty. They could hear the music downstairs, which was loud enough to block out whatever sounds they heard in their own rooms. Vinnie pushed her towards the bed and she climbed onto it, giggling excitedly.

Vinnie leaned over and began kissing her neck, trailing his teeth along the line between her collarbones, leaving soft marks as he went. His kisses started from her shoulders down her chest until he reached the waistband of her jeans. he pulled them down slowly, revealing her black lace panties and black stockings. he removed them completely, pulling her underwear down as well. he tossed her panties aside and slipped his finger inside of her, causing her to moan in pleasure. he slid two fingers inside of her and began thrusting his hand in and out of her, sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. she was moaning loudly and reaching her climax as she felt his tongue swirling around her clit.

she was almost panting when he suddenly pulled out of her. She opened her eyes and saw him staring at her hungrily. “you’re beautiful…” he murmured, cupping both sides of her face. he bent down and pressed his lips against hers. it felt incredibly good. the way he kissed her, made her feel so alive, so free. she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer as he kept moving in and out of her. She could feel her orgasm building and she desperately needed release. she reached her hand down his pants and began stroking him. he groaned and pressed himself harder into her hand as she squeezed him tightly. he grabbed her wrists and held them above her head while he continued to kiss her furiously and roughly. she moaned loudly as he increased the pace of his movements. she began to feel dizzy and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall into the blissful void. She began to feel more than a little dizzy, but she couldn’t stop because she didn’t want to. she tightened her grip on Vinnie’s hair as she felt herself coming. she could taste herself as her orgasm began to build. It had been so long, so many years… she hadn’t been able to feel anything like that for so long. She felt like crying.

she collapsed on top of him, exhausted. Vinnie lay still for a moment before he raised himself off of the bed and lifted Y/n into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him, pressing herself against him as she laid her head on his chest. he carried her down the hallway to his bedroom.

he carefully put her down on his large mattress and pulled the sheets up to her chin. He walked out of the room and returned a few minutes later, with a glass of water and a pill.

the end!

[cinnamonest]

Male Majority AU brainrot has consumed me once again. Also cucking because we love it. Dropping this blurb here for no special reason, hoping you like it nonetheless hehe

Alhaitham is quite surprised when he finds out Kaveh got himself a girl. It was apparently, after his graduation right as the popularity of the architect spiked up. Before said architect fell into crippling debts as well. Only someone as brash as Kaveh wouldn’t see it coming, wouldn’t be prepared for that outcome. So it’s not as surprising to Alhaitham when his senpai beg him to house him and his girl. He accepts, though not without a price of course.

You see, Alhaitham has never paid much attention to the other sex before. Of course he has seen women, the Grand Sage, the Darshans, anyone of power has one always stuck to their side. Those higher-ups loves to brag, and frustrate Akademiya students even more since it’s practically impossible for anyone who hasn’t graduated to get a woman for themselves (and even then, it depends on how successful you are— beside, it’s difficult taking care of a being so delicate when you never have free time). But now that you’re here, living with him, he realises what he’s been missing.

You’re a bit shy, always worry about not bothering him, and you stiffen when he addresses you. You’re still adamant about showing how thankful you are for this housing arrangement though. While he’s working or reading at home, you always bring him water and snacks now and then. Always call him ‘sir Alhaitham’ or ‘master Alhaitham’. You try your best to greet him when he comes home, to compliment him, ‘W-well done at work today’ and it makes him laugh because you obviously have no idea what his job is. He acknowledges your efforts, but small things like you— they’ll never reach even an average man’s intelligence (you seem aware of that at the very least.).

He feels a bit bad for you too, your owner can’t see past his own nose. Kaveh does his best taking care of you, cuddling you, bringing you gifts, even ask your opinion on some of his architectural projects but he never tries to listen to you, does he? Anytime he finds you two interacting, the architect runs in-between screeching ‘Don’t speak to my darling you lunatic, you’ll corrupt my beloved! Are you alright sweetheart, he didn’t touch did he ?’. Such reaction only makes Alhaitham want to try to get closer to you more and more, see how far he can get away with things.

So he does, small touches here and there that ends up in cuddling sessions, bringing you some gifts now and then. ‘I need your presence at the Akademiya, please put this on and stick close to me.’ You’re unsure about putting the collar with a clear Alhaitham’s…. Yet you’re aware you don’t have a say in this, only following his order. You won’t do anything the whole day beside being arm candy, But what can Kaveh do about it, under the threat of removing him from the house? It teaches him a lesson as well— who is dumb enough to end up almost homeless while owning a girl? He truly doesn’t realise the danger he put you through there.

Perhaps Alhaitham should look into putting you into shared ownership. Stealing a girl is illegal of course, but cases of women who got a second owner because the first one fell under tough times aren’t unheard of. He’s getting tired of waiting, he’s been looking forward to bedding you for a while now.

AHHHHH I love this, Kaveh WOULD make a horrible financial decision like that lmao. Even in general it would be so awful, Alhaitham would absolutely be that third wheel that gets constantly inconvenienced because the other is constantly making adjustments and doing things without asking first lmao

Also since there's no like canonical heights to my knowledge, there's one part mentioning reader being comparatively shorter than them

----

To be fair, it's an act of benevolence to begin with. This unjust world is a constant weight on Kaveh's heart and mind, he's one of the most unfortunate people to have to exist in this universe, given he's such a bleeding heart. They have those charities and such that are supposed to advocate for better conditions and humane practices for the poor girls, and he's emptied his pockets for those more than once.

But buying one was not a selfish act, no. It may just be one, sure, and there are still plenty more suffering out there, but at least he can sleep well at night knowing he has made a difference, even if it's just in one person's life. After all, it was so pitiful and heart-wrenching, passing by those markets in town all the time and seeing them put in cages and look so miserable, he HAD to get one. It weighed on his soul, you know?

Such is how he justifies it, when questioned on it. He's doing a good thing. He's very happy about it initially, too.

Granted, it's not particularly normal for someone of his current economic status to make this decision, even pre-debt, it's not like he's super filthy rich or anything. He may or may not have taken out a loan... but no big deal... right...?

It's also true that neither of them have had any real opportunities to interact with the opposite sex — the Akademiya, of course, has no female students. Well, except for the fact that there's actually been a few cases of some particularly brazen, stupid girls being caught managing to disguise themselves for some time in attempts to get educational certification (presumably try to maintain the act long enough to become self-sufficient), but of course it never lasts long and is swiftly dealt with, given that students are incentivized by the policy that if someone discovers and rats a girl out to the institution, that person will get to keep her. But regardless, neither of them ever encountered such a thing.

Poor Kaveh is rather awkward at first, but he openly acknowledges that -- that is, he's more just awkward rather than shy, has no trouble being up-front and transparent about never having spoken directly to or been so close to a female before. He's pretty confident in his capability to be a good owner, though, he's done a lot of research and knows how to be sensitive and careful.

It's a fascinating experience, though. He's very touchy, and not even in a sexual way, often just reaching out to brush his hands over your skin, almost in a sort of awe. He realizes that for whatever reason, he had more or less subconsciously thought of them to be like inorganic objects, perhaps in part due to having spent almost more occasions seeing them portrayed in statues in architecture courses than in real life (which is very common -- no matter what nation you look at, one learns that in the anthropological sense of things, females are constantly made the subject of art, music, marblework, poetry, and virtually every other aspect of culture, often by men who have very little experience with real-life ones beyond their own mothers and the occasional few hours with prostitutes).

So it almost feels surprising to be reminded that you are made of flesh and blood, and thereby are, in fact, soft and warm and fleshy. It's an exhilarating feeling, holding onto you, even just the slightest touches and wrapping arms around you gives him a sort of natural chemical high, a buzz that's nearly overwhelming. Which, sure, he's heard described before, and has even read about quite extensively in anatomy and biology in the first years of general education, but experiencing it for oneself is totally different, and far more intense of a feeling than he had imagined.

He's really one of the best possible owners you could get, though. Very caring and doting, often to a point that it's suffocating.

And, of course, protective... which becomes an odd dynamic when he's forced to seek alternative living situations and you end up living with Alhaitham, seeing as most protective people probably would not be comfortable with a living situation in which one is living with another guy all the while.

Well, he is uncomfortable, but he doesn't have much of a choice. When his finances go plummeting, he knows who to reach out to... and while Alhaitham knows full well he'll give in and take you two in, there is some hesitation when he thinks about it. It could invite trouble, if someone sees you walking around the house and all... he'll just have to be careful.

Thankfully, Kaveh's still only paying rent for one person. Alhaitham did think about increasing it to something reasonable for two people, but... well, you're not really a "person," so to speak. When it comes to public transportation fees, usually females are considered a carry-on object, like a dog or a large suitcase, and only add an extra fee, which is less than the boarding cost for a person. So, out of generosity, he just leaves it as is.

Alhaitham soon comes to realize, however, that the decision to take you both in has some unforeseen consequences, namely being nagged and hounded about every little thing he does.

He's constantly getting chastised — they're fragile, you know, need ideal conditions. Yes, there needs to be a fire because your kind are very temperature sensitive (shouldn't he know that? Did he not pay any attention in biology??), yes he needs to buy (read: Alhaitham needs to buy) silk sheets because your skin is more fragile, yes they need to start buying (once more, read: Alhaitham needs to start buying) higher quality food for you because your it is critical that you get certain nutrients and vitamins or it will throw off your hormones and biles and all that and make you sick.

It's... irksome. He acts like every little issue that arises is the end of the world, exaggerates any harm that may come to you. And, of course, Kaveh tends to blame him for every negative thing. You get sick for a day and he claims it's because the house is too cold or too dusty, you tripped and fell and got carpet burn and it turned into a five minute lecture on how Alhaitham must have been the one to have mistakenly bunched up the edge of the rug and how he needs to be more careful, having a more fragile creature living here now. You knock something off the top of a cabinet (where they both tend to keep some foodstuffs), trying to reach it and it falls on your head, and soon Alhaitham finds his entire cabinets rearranged, optimized for your reach, and with the snacks you like placed in front of the other stuff.

Not to mention, of course, it's very awkward when he has to listen to you two go at it.

Kaveh's quick to justify that matter when Alhaitham makes some mildly passive-aggressive comment about it. No, it's not unethical nor coercion to have sex with you just because you depend on him for survival or anything. They NEED to have sex or they'll get sick... and in his defense, that's the common belief.

See, Sumeru is, predictably, the origin of a great deal of pseudoscience. Whereas other regions are more prone to bizarre and dumb traditional beliefs and stereotypes with no real basis that simply persist over time, Sumeru inhabitants prefer their misinformation to be peer-reviewed and doctoral-degree-verified, based on "studies" and "research" that is definitely not the sort where they intentionally set up the research to achieve predetermined results. You can even major in things of the sort at the Akademiya, like female medicine or female psychology, very lucrative fields seeing as they deal with primarily high-wealth clients (and otherwise men who are still willing to pay out the nose for the well-being of their beloved).

The Akademiya is also the world's leading institute on research for female hysteria, neurosis and psychosis, and cures thereof. The cause of such disorders is, generally, an imbalance of the humors and biles caused by hormonal deficiencies that are a direct result of the creature being undersexed. The Studies™ show that they become depressed and psychologically unwell as a result of several directly related causes, namely lack of orgasm and lack of having their pair-bonded mate's seed in them. Throws their brains off-balance.

Which is why Kaveh's not like the typical cruel, heartless person that buys these poor victimized girls just to use them like toys and objects, no, he's doing this because it's a necessary part of your care. The intention is what matters, and thereby makes it non-exploitative... also, of course, actually having mutual love for each other makes it non-exploitative, which he insists is the case... he's especially insistent of this after a certain someone muttered an unnecessary comment just loud enough for him to hear that 'she has every incentive to *act* like she loves you, you know,'  which left him upset for some time.

He's not wrong... you do gladly proclaim you do. That's how you've always been trained to act — even if you met your master ten seconds ago, you are ready at any moment to muster a smile and say you love him. The universally understood rules are simple: you love your master from the moment you meet him, you show no signs of discontentment, and you pretend as if you came into existence that very moment — never mentioning your past, acting as if any previous owners or living situations have been wiped from your memory, and above all, never comparing your current owner to a past one in a negative way.

Especially seeing as Kaveh is obviously... on edge. It's not like he isn't well aware of the ticking time bomb of a setup he's managed to find himself in. Staying in a home with some other guy, while having you around... it's asking for something to go wrong. Most people wouldn't dare, and would view the choice as a rather stupid one.

Thus, Kaveh is always trying to deter you from interacting, telling you that the man who owns the home is either too calloused and will be a bad influence, or too insensitive and will hurt your feelings; there's no way someone as thoughtless and dense as him would ever be able to appropriately, properly converse with your kind, known for emotionally sensitivity and all. Besides, you have no real reason to even want to speak to him, right?

So you can talk only when they're both around, when he's there to ensure Alhaitham doesn't say something stupidly insensitive or offensive. Which leads to some disputes, the two bicker back and forth even more than they would normally. And you... well, they can't be upset with you for at least trying to intervene, trying to be soft-spoken and sweet so as to not make it worse. It's very awkward for everyone involved.

His affection for you makes him that much more infuriated when he finds out that Alhaitham has been taking you out of the house and, in his mind, forcing you to spend time with him when you obviously have no desire to, parading you around as if you're his. It frustrates him, it upsets him, but... he can't really do anything.

On Alhaitham's end, though, it's only fair, so he thinks. Come on. What was he thinking? Knowing full well that Alhaitham doesn't have one, and yet he still basically wants to torment him by having you there? It feels like rubbing salt in a wound, of course he should know this was bound to happen eventually.

It's just slowly building up to a much bolder move, or rather, a compromise. Just... once a month, maybe. It's what he's owed, you know? And he'll be sure to fill out the paperwork verifying that he has partial ownership, meaning he's entitled to physical relations anyway.

With no other options, Kaveh is more or less forced to agree, albeit very very begrudginly... but, of course, with limits! He doesn't exactly have any right to set those limits, really, but Alhaitham agrees to them if for nothing else but to save himself the complaining and chastising he'd get otherwise. It's only a very small allowance, once per month and only once, no more than half an hour, and absolutely no other exchanges of any affection outside of that! Not that he can be there to enforce that, but he trusts you'll tell him if that bastard makes any move to touch you or kiss you or try anything whenever he's not around... won't you?

Not knowing what else to do (and stuck between trying to keep two rather stubborn individuals happy at the same time), you're very quick to assure him that of course you won't allow such a thing, and, of course, that you love him so much more, he's so much better and he's the only one that can actually make you feel good, so on and so on... he's not exactly happy about the situation, but your words placate him. For now, at least, until Alhaitham keeps pushing the bar for what he's allowed further, and further, and further...

[fizzigigsimmer]

Moonwood Part 3

|&lt;<Part One|

Steve tries to avoid Billy at school, but Billy just seems to be everywhere. Steve will cut through a different hallway or deliberately hang back in one class before heading to his next just to limit his chances of running into Billy, and yet half the time he’ll run into Billy anyway.

Sometimes Billy will be hanging out next to some lockers with other moonwood guys - it’s weird but Steve can recognize them just by how big they all are - and sometimes he sees Billy leaving a classroom door with his arms slung over a blushing girl’s shoulders and his stomach twists. It’s because of the way Billy always looks at Steve - his gaze always seems to find Steve no matter what he is doing or who he is with, and burn - like he wants to eat Steve alive.

The one place Steve can’t avoid Billy is history class, which they share and have the bad luck of being alphabet buddies in the seating arrangement. Steve’s never been a good student to begin with, but it’s even harder to focus with Billy breathing down his neck. Billy is going out of his way to intimidate Steve and it doesn’t take Steve long to see it. If he gets there before Steve Billy will put his feet in Steve’s chair or up on his desk, and act like he can’t see Steve just trying to get to his seat in peace.

An irritated, “Hey, you wanna move?” from Steve the first time it happens earns him a lazy shrug and a, “Nope” popped from between Billy’s pink lips. 

He made a mistake the first day looking toward the door as the teacher shuffled in with her nose in a steaming mug and her glasses crooked on her nose. Even though she’s on the frumpy side and obviously raises cats for fun, Steve can’t believe how unbelievably cocky Billy is when he laughs and goes, “You’re shitting me. You think Mrs. Samuals is gonna save you? That’s sad even for a pipsqueak.”

So now Steve doesn’t even bother with formalities. When he walks into history and sees Billy's dirty combat boots propped up on his desk, or in his seat, he just shoves them off and does his best to ignore Billy taunting him the rest of class.

“I’m doing you a favor Princess. We gotta build up those arms.”

Billy’s mouth is not the most frustrating thing about him. Billy making mean comments about Steve’s answers when he’s unfortunate enough to get called on is one thing. Steve’s no brainiac and if Billy wants to joke that he’s got nothing between his ears, it’s nothing Steve hasn’t heard before. 

Steve could handle it if all Billy wanted to give him was lip. What he can’t handle is the way that after a week of Billy’s stupid nicknames - Princess, Pretty Boy, and Pipsqueak are his favorites - he’s started to forget that he’s not those things. 

Two weeks of Billy shoulder checking him in the hallways, and slapping him on the back hard enough to rattle Steve’s teeth after making some comment that just highlights how much bigger and stronger Billy is in comparison, and Steve actually starts to feel small.

Steve has his share of problems like any teenager but he’s not used to feeling vulnerable or small. Like something hunted in the forest with the fear of death hanging over him. He’s honest with himself. He realizes he’s always been the guy doing the hunting, and that he probably owes a lot of people back in Hawkins some apologies. This feeling SUCKS; but Hawkins is in the past and there’s nothing he can do about it. All he wants to do is survive the next year, and he’s sure as hell not going to spend it looking over his shoulder and running from his own shadow. Fuck that.

Basketball tryouts are on Friday at the end of his third week, right before the big bonfire. That Monday Steve starts to seriously toy with the idea of going for it. Billy wants to be an asshole, then let him be an asshole. Two can play that game.

Despite Billy’s obvious animosity towards Steve, it’s only really Billy who gives Steve shit at school.  

The first week a couple of guys from moonwood tried shoving him into a locker and picking up the whole “pipsqueak” thing, but they weren't expecting Steve to fight back or for Randy and Chet to come to his rescue and even out the fight. To be fair, Steve wasn’t expecting Chet to stick up for him either because he’s Billy’s best friend and co-captain of the basketball team. 

There’s no way Chet hasn’t gotten the memo that Steve is on Billy’s shit list. But Steve figures Chet must be more mature and realizes that this highschool drama bullshit doesn’t really matter now, and definitely won’t matter to most of them in a year. Good for Chet. He wishes some of his chill would rub off on Billy.

After realizing that Steve isn’t afraid to throw a punch and that calling him names isn’t going to stop him from scoring with the girls they wish they could score with, the other moonwood guys get the memo that Steve’s not an easy kill and seem content to sit back and wait for Billy to do it for them. But thankfully Billy doesn’t try anything harder with him than a shoulder bump and a few dark promises when he’s warning him away from some girl like they’re in a cheap gangster movie. For now he seems fine with his verbal warnings but Steve’s not betting on that holding forever.

Girls are the one area of Steve’s life that doesn’t feel like it’s been turned upside down. He’s shiny and new to the Schiller girls who think he’s some kinda badass for moving to Moonwood and spending his summer hiking in the woods. He knew the national forest is populated with several protected wolf packs, but he’s surprised by how many of the girls have stories about some dumbass who wandered off the public trails and got eaten by the local wildlife. It sounds like simple cause and effect to him, but he supposes it’s more fun to blame it on werewolves.

Anyway he’s a pussy magnet with the Schiller girls because he slept in a tent in the woods a few times, and the Moonwood girls love him because he’s new and he isn’t peeing his pants over Billy giving him shit. 

As Sasha puts it, Steve’s got balls, but he’s not a meathead who thinks a fingerbang under the boardwalk is romance. He listens first to them complain about their parents, their boyfriends, and all the bullshit expectations adults like to heap on teenagers, and then he asks for permission to feel them up. Plus he likes making them laugh. 

They call him cute. Steve’s eighteen-years-old and officially a grown ass man, but to Sasha and the volleyball girls he’s “Stevie-doll”. Steve’s not sure when the Moonwood girls decided he was their doll but Steve’s not as dumb as he looks. 

Any situation that ends with him having the baddest women he’s ever known fighting over who gets the prime cuddle spot is a good situation. The trouble of course with the girls deciding that Steve’s their new best friend and revenge fling all rolled into one is the way it pisses off other guys. Especially the moonwood guys. Randy was not kidding about how territorial they are over “their” girls. It’s kinda messed up actually the way they act like this is the 50s or something and the girls can’t think for themselves. Steve sticks up for the girls cause it’s the right thing to do, but he knows it’ll be trouble before too much longer if something doesn’t change.

It’s crazy but he still wants to try out for the basketball team. Maybe there’s just something in Steve that can’t back down from a challenge or maybe it’s the weird way Steve still feels drawn to Billy despite everything. He doesn’t know why it became a fight and what the rules are, he just knows he doesn’t want to back down from this one.

When Steve tells Sasha what he’s planning he’s expecting her to warn him off it, but he’s surprised when she and the other girls smile and share secretive looks.

“I’m sure you’ll do great, and the guys on the team are really solid. They’d be a good pack for you.”

Steve thinks that’s a very strange way for her to put it. It’s not the first time that Steve has heard that word tossed around casually when the subject of making friends comes up. His grandparents and his aunt do it all the time. But Sasha is so much younger than them, and yet she still refers to the rest of the girls on the team as her “pack”. 

Steve thought it was a joke when they called him an honorary member and made him promise not to let any of the guys steal him away. But he can tell they’re serious now about Billy and Chet and the other basketball guys being good for him.

It weirds him out a little if he’s honest. A lot of things about Moonwood are weird that he has sort of ignored because his head was still spinning from the divorce and his life changing faster than he could take a breath sometimes. But things are slower now and Steve’s noticing more things.

Like how much bigger everyone in Moonwood is. They’re not freakishly big like giants or anything. If he’d met any one of his new neighbors back in Hawkins he wouldn’t have thought anything of it at all. But when they’re all together it’s noticeable that they’re different from the rest of the kids at Schiller High. It’s like someone moved the baseline up a notch without telling him.

He’s started to wonder if the additional height and the muscle is genetic because he hears other people in Moonwood speaking in Lythan, even though it took him a while to pay enough attention to recognize it. Steve realizes there must have been more immigrants than just his ancestor when he came to this country and that there’s a story there. He starts to wonder why he’s never heard it. Why his mom has never told him anything about her side of the family at all. 

When they were estranged that was one thing, but they’ve been here for months and Steve still has so many questions. When he gets home from school that Thursday before try-outs he decides to confront her and get some answers.

Steve’s mom is tall, like a model, with legs and arms that go for miles, and enough glossy hair for a shampoo commercial. He’s never thought of her as ‘big’ or ‘unusual”. At least not before he walks in on her and his aunt repainting the downstairs den, and realizes neither one of them have to use a ladder or a step stool to reach the ceiling with their rolling brushes.

Steve’s dad used to get on his mom a lot about her looks all the time. He expected her to always be the same gorgeous girl he met that one summer between highschool and college and she accommodated him. Steve blinks at her, noticing a lot of things for the first time since they moved to Moonwood.  

She’s gotten tan, and she’s stopped waxing and plucking the way she used to - Steve absolutely gets his hairiness from her side of the family. She's also started to fill out some with all of his grandmother’s cooking. She looks bigger.

She looks happier. Happier than he’s seen her in ages. Robust even. He used to be so worried about her being too thin, skipping meals, and crash dieting all the time, that his perspective of her has been skewed for years.

She is not a small woman. Maybe Steve only ever saw her that way because she was with his dad, who needed her to be. The realization makes him sad, but also suddenly furious. He wants to punch his dad so hard in the face he can feel it like an itch. 

The feeling comes on so strong it kinda scares him and he sucks in a breath. That’s when his mom and aunt Julie finally notice he’s watching them from the doorway.

“Oh! Steve. Hi pippin, I didn’t realize you were home.”

Steve’s mom used to call him that when he was really little, until his dad made her stop. She blinks a little at Steve, realizing at the same time that he does what has just slipped out of her mouth.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I know you’re too big for that now.” 

Steve decides his questions can wait. He just wants to keep seeing her happy.

“It’s fine. What’s for dinner?” he asks with a smile and when she beams at him, he knows he made the right decision.

[Part 4]

Friendly Tags for those who expressed interest: @darleenjade @sweetwaterangel @dragonflylady77 @natchula @tip-tap-tired @sparklingsprinkles @adelacreations

[thesupreme316]

Girl I’m ready for the next part of Had it Coming 😩🫶🏼

Had it Coming (Part 5): Hook'sSister!Reader X Christian Cage, Reader X Jack Perry

Summary: It's been some months after the confrontation with Jack about your relationship. Are things still holding up strongly in your life?

Word Count: 2K (hehe...i need help)

Supreme Speaks: thank you guys so much for supporting this series and showing it love. aight look, this took a hot minute so please go easy on this. also, thank you so much for being patient and to my anons i hope you are still here. Please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: DARK PORTRAYAL OF JACK (tw: obsessive, stalking), explicit language, proofread i hope (if yall wanna help a sista out lmk hmu)

You thought that all of your problems were solved. You thought you were actually moving towards happiness yet again. But no, this shit can’t get any fucking worse.

It’s been approximately 6 months since you last saw Jack. For the first month, you kept receiving messages from him ranging from angry to sadness. You blocked his number but he was getting new phone numbers and using his friends’ phones to text you. You ended up getting a new number but that didn’t even stop him as he even began texting you on Instagram and Twitter.

It was driving you crazy, the constant noise of your phone going off, and the constant feeling that you were being watched. You started to seek therapy because of it and tried everything to distract you from it. Even Tony allowed you to take time off however much you needed to cope and heal.

But then one day and for the rest of the 5 months, he was radio silent.

It wasn’t because he finally got the hints though. It was because he signed to New Japan Pro Wrestling. Because they have a rigorous training and performance schedule, he didn’t have enough time to text you.

The new silence and peace allowed you to focus on other and more important things. You started wrestling again and actually made you feel better. You were winning more matches all by yourself, the crowd slowly but surely started to get behind you again, and you were rising up to be one of the top talents within the women’s division. You decided that being in the ring was the best course of action for your career, mindset, and peace. After all, there wasn’t much you could do in just a managerial position, besides supporting your boyfriend.

And speaking of your boyfriend, you two have been going through some challenges within your relationship. Christian was keeping a closer eye on you. He never allowed you to leave the house by yourself when you had days off, and when you were at work you were always escorted to your destinations. At first, it was endearing, however, over time it became smothering and overbearing. It was like Christian was becoming less of the person you fell in love with and more into a….

Bother.

After all, he hasn’t been catering to your needs or relationship, always focused on work. You’ve tried to tell him your feelings but he doesn’t seem to listen as he’s too absorbed with his career. And was too absorbed to even send you flowers like he normally does.

He began to get very obsessed with his TNT Championship and his rivalry with his former best friend, Adam Copeland. He started to wrestle even less than usual and just paraded around the building before going home. And then he became very obsessed with The Patriarchy, the name of his faction. Originally, it was just you, Christian, and Luchasaurus. But now, you were in and out of the picture, he changed Luchasaurus’ name to Killswitch, and he added Nick Wayne to the group, the same kid he embarrassed months ago. Which all contributed to why you’re sitting here in the group’s locker room now.

Killswitch was pacing around the room, shadowboxing the air. You were sitting on the couch listening to Nick Wayne and his various questions and stories about wrestling. He’s a sweet kid, a second-generation wrestler, and very curious just about life. His big brown eyes just lit up every time you offered him advice or laughed at his jokes.

“So Miss. Y/N-“

“Nick, I told you that you don’t have to call me that. Y/N is fine with me.”

“Oh okay, Y/N, has Mr. Cage always been very stoic? He seems to be very uptight.” Nick said in a whisper, careful to not let Killswitch hear.

You giggled as you looked towards the open door where Christian was loudly talking on the phone.“Yeah, but he knew how to relax, have fun, and make others a priority. But right now, he’s going through a phase.” Nick’s eyes widened at you as you cleared your throat. “He’s just a little on edge right now. But look at the bright side; you’re improving so much in the ring.”

Nick smiled at you, “Thank you! Mr. Cage has really been giving me great pointers. But I also wanna thank you for helping me with that submission move.”

“No problem, I-“ you started but cut yourself off when you heard Christian start to yell in the hallways. You excused yourself before going in the hallway and shutting the door. You grabbed his phone and put it up to your ear, making your boyfriend’s jaw drop. “I’m sorry for that. Mr. Cage is busy and will have to call you later. Thank you!” You said before hanging up the phone.

“Y/N-“

“You are being way too loud and you're going back to your old ways. This is the first time you’re yelling on the phone in months.”

His eyes cut at you and his tone grew to very stern, “That was a very important business-“

“Everything is very important business with you, right? The faction, your championship, but not your relationship. You’re focused on everything but me and I just ask if you can just once think about me.”

Christian’s face grew with confusion as he ran his fingers through his short dirty blonde hair. “Everything I do is for you Y/N. I fight for you, I protect you, I provide for you, especially ever since that day with Jack. But I’ve been trying to give you space since you feel smothered and whatnot.”

You huffed, upset that he hasn’t seen your ways yet, “Oh so that TNT Championship is for me? So this group is for me? Newsflash, all this is your doing and for your benefit but it wasn’t ever anything until I came into the picture. Has it ever crossed your mind that I feel smothered because I feel like I’m not in a relationship anymore? In terms of Jack, I’ve been doing a lot of healing but I cannot continue to heal if you’re holding me hostage like how he did.”

Christian’s eyes widened before shock, fear, and disappointment took over his eyes. It made your heart hurt, but it was something that you felt and you had to let him know. He stepped closer and leaned down, not taking his blue eyes off of you, “What are you trying to say?”

“I think you know what.” You whispered as his face was centimeters close to yours. The silence and air became so tense that you felt like you were suffocating. Before either of you could say something, his phone started to ring in your hand. He grabbed the phone and looked at the name.

“Go inside now. I’ll be there shortly.” He said as he turned his body away to answer the phone. Upon entering the locker room, you could have sworn his tone was more excited and softer…like how he used to talk to you. As you closed the door, Nick looked at you and gave you a soft smile. You sat next to him and began another conversation to wait out Christian.

Five minutes later, Christian came back into the locker room with something- someone in tow. She was a tall blonde woman, who was a little bit taller than Christian due to her heels. She looked like a supermodel. She was dressed in all black, matching your boyfriend’s actions. You looked over at Nick, whose eyes were about to pop out of his head. Already, you felt some off vibes. Christian cleared his throat to address the room.

“Everyone, I would like to introduce someone. This is will be my new manager,” Those words made both your stomach drop. However, him pulling flowers out from behind him to give them to her would make your heart drop. He continued, “and I’m sure she will be a great asset to The Patriarchy, please welcome Shayna-“

“Mom?” Nick’s voice shouted from beside you. Your eyes also began to pop out of your head. ”What is this?!”

“Nick, this is a business arrangement. This should be fun, I get more acquainted with the wrestling industry and I get to spend more time with you. Mr. Cage made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse.” She said giggling while leaning on his shoulder, making your boyfriend smile and chuckle. She rubbed his shoulder and flipped her hair while continuing to talk.

Normally, you wouldn’t get insecure about another woman near Christian but at this point, you couldn’t help it. It made your eyes and heart hurt, seeing them so comfortable together and for her to look like she naturally belonged next to him.

But also, it made you mad as hell that he was allowing someone else to showcase this behavior alone right in front of you.

To distract yourself, you started looking at your phone and you found two text messages. One was from your brother, Tyler, asking you to come see him as he had important news. From the looks of his text, which has no acronyms or emojis, you assumed that it was bad news. The other one was from an unknown number, you were about to unlock and read the text until a figure was standing over you. You looked up from your phone to see Shayna standing over you, with almost a smug smirk.

“You must be Y/N, I’ve heard a lot about you!” She said as her smirk transformed into a smile. You stood up and gave her a small fake smile. She extended her hand to you.

Looking at her hand, you said, “Nice to meet you. However, I should be going.” You stepped aside and headed towards the door.

“Killswitch, go with her,” Christian commanded as you opened the door. Killswitch started to make his way over to you.

You rolled your eyes saying, “These are family matters. I’m going alone.” Before slamming the door shut in Killswitch’s face. You quickly marched, damn near ran, to Tyler’s locker room.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. “Okay, you had no emotions in your text, is everything ok-” You looked up to see your brother…kissing a brunette woman.

Which at first you didn’t have a problem with.

Tyler quickly stepped away from the woman but soon grabbed her waist, turning her to you, to reveal all-too-familiar blue eyes mooning as she made an awkward smile.

“Anna?” You said with your voice hesitating. Anna Jay gave a small wave to you as Tyler scratched his neck and then ran his hand through his own hair.

Now, you have a problem with it. In a shocked state, turned around despite your brother’s protesting and asking you to let him explain. You shut the door and just kept walking down the hallway.

You were just shocked and angry. Your brother, whom you’re very close with just stood there making out with the same woman who was detrimental in the break up of your last relationship. You couldn’t help but think that all this trouble was karma catching up with you. After all, you did at first betray him to date his best friend and become his enemy at first.

As you’re trying to process what was happening between your relationship with Christian and your relationship with Tyler, your phone goes off to show you the message that you never opened. Your body naturally stopped in the hallway to pay attention to your phone. You swiped on your screen to reveal a message that sent chills down your spine and your phone crashing to the floor. Tears started to fill your eyes as you began to feel overwhelmed with all that was going on in your life. You dropped to your knees as you re-read the text with your tears hitting your now cracked phone screen.

Unknown number: 7:08 PM

Hey Y/N, I would like to talk and apologize to you…properly. Please text me back.

~Love, Jack

At this point, karma and trouble has caught up to you.

And you only had yourself to blame.

Taglist: @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @sheinthatfandom @triscillal @wwenhlimagines @kat04ie @batzy-watzy @cassie0sstuff  (lmk if you wanna be on or off my taglist, i don't bite)

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! HC S/O with chronic migraines

Slasher x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: chronic pain, beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, smidge of angst if you squint

Michael Myers

Doesn’t really do much about it until later in your relationship

After he’s grown more comfortable around you

He has noticed it though, since the first time it happened

He’s an observant man

The severity of migraines can be different each time, reveal various symptoms and overall be a pain in the ass

Michael doesn’t really care much at first

I mean, so what if your head is bothering you?

He’s been shot multiple times and never complained

Although now that he’s actually grown fond of you, he finds himself uncomfortable with the idea of you being in pain

It’s weird, his chest gets all tight, he palms get clammy, his internal war is silent but most definitely raging

I don’t see him as someone who would run a hot bath, or bring you tea and pain medication

I’m not sure he even knows how to show he wants to help

So he just… watches

You’ll be groaning in the kitchen as you heat up some leftovers, turn the corner and oo! Jumpscare

Laying on the couch with a heating pad on your forehead?

For some reason there’s a shadow looming in the adjacent hall

Taking medication?

…Why can you hear heavy breathing

The kinda guy to plop down beside you, in silence, and just let you sprawl yourself across his lap

Probably won’t pet your hair or even touch you, just stare at your closed eyes

3.6/10 care, could definitely improve his score but probably never will

Most likely wants to stab your migraine

He doesn’t understand how it would work though

Thomas Hewitt

A total sweetheart

Just wants to help even though he’s not sure how

Probably would make the pain worse

Sorry! Someone had to say it

This man is so gentle with you, he can’t stand to see you in any condition other than happy and healthy

The kinda guy to promise quiet so you can rest, and then trips over everything in sight immediately after

He’s bulky, what do you expect

Doesn’t like Hoyt making any comments that would make you feel worse

Like that your pain isn’t real or you’re exaggerating

No worries though

One rev of his chainsaw and his uncles lips are sealed

Stay out of the basement

He knows it smells bad, and when he’s working it’s loud

He just doesn’t want your pain to get worse

Had to ask Luda Mae what a migraine when is, and what he can do to help

Will instruct Hoyt to get medication while he’s out

Would honestly take all your pain for himself if he could, seeing you like this hurts immensely

Not a talker, but the body language is strong

The minute you’re rubbing your temple with a rough hand, his shoulders cave in, eyes wide with furrowed brows

He looks devastated

He’s not trying to guilt you

He just hasn’t had someone like you in his life before, and he only wants the best for you

Need a hot bath? He’ll sacrifice his own warm shower later

Muscles cramped? He’s already massaging away as you’re face first on your shared bed

Hungry?… well Luda Mae can take care of that

Would do anything you asked

Ask him to do anything

Go on

He wants you too

Bo Sinclair

Doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of someone

…I’m sensing a pattern here…

Anyway

Is one of the slashers who actually talks

And while that makes communication easier, sometimes words don’t solve every problem

Can be harsh

Doesn’t mean to be, he was just taught about rage more than happiness from a young age

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t care

It’s all with good intentions

Oddly enough doesn’t chastise or mock your pain, you’d think he would honestly, but no

He’d never want to make you feel as though he doesn’t believe you

Does he know how to take care of migraines? No of course not, he is one

Does he go into town to get anything you ask? Yes of course

Won’t baby you, or treat you like glass

He’s a tough love kinda guy

The one that thinks he’s patting you on the back but actually is crushing your spine each slap of his hand

You get the jist

Doesn’t really like Vincent or Lester around you when you’re in pain

Not that he distrusts them

I just think he’s the kinda guy who subconsciously is overprotective, yet will never admit or even notice it

Raises his voice a lot

This man talks in all caps

You need to constantly remind him it’s making your head throb even worse

Or when he starts smoking around you

He’s not doing it on purpose, promise

Will get snarky if you start speaking to him with an attitude, again, it’s not intentional he just forgets you’re in pain and those kinda of things make it worse

Remind him you love him, you just need some silence for a bit

Shuts him up real fast

Calls you doll, doesn’t treat you like you’re fragile though

Pretends to not like your jokes about him being your, “little nurse”

The redness of his ears is an indicator though

Vincent Sinclair

The one I would trust most with a s/o with this problem

He’s not a softy

By any means

Just because he’s quiet doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to manage stuff

Especially when it comes to someone he cares about being in pain

Is one of the slashers I see actually putting the effort in to pamper you

Not extremely advertantly though, more subtle

He’s observant, you need to be when you’re as quiet as him

Notices the minute you start feeling a migraine come on

Will leave little drawings where he knows you’ll find them

So you know he’s there in case you need him

If you want to sit in his studio and just be near him, he’ll just continue working

If you want him to pay attention to you, he’ll start sketching a little doodle of your face

You want to go for a walk outside? He’s not doing that, but will insist Lester accompany you for safety

There isn’t much danger in Ambrose, aside from the Sinclairs themselves, but it calms his nerves

If Bo tries to give you a hard time he’s receiving a cold glare

Would kill anyone who bothers you or makes your pain worse, unless it’s his brothers, but strangers are fair game

I feel like Vincent probably suffers from headaches/migraines as well

They probably manifested at a young age due to the loud, stressful childhood he suffered

Overall, knows how to care for you

Is gentle unlike his twin

Would let you rest your head on his lap and nap there

Wouldn’t move even if he needed to pee, he’s just frozen like a literal statue, letting you use him as a pillow

9/10, but if Bo had a migraine he could give less a shit

Only worries about you

Hope this catered as expected!

I don’t suffer from migraines but my sister does, I’m a little in tune to the pain they cause

Thanks for reading!

Requests are open!