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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 5 months

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Wingwoman (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: You take your good friend/coworker, Spencer, out to the bar to find him a girl to hook up with. Things do not go as planned.

Word Count: 5107

Warnings: Romantic/sexual tension! Mentions of drinking / sex

A/N: Hi! I haven't written posted fanfic in like, 8 years, please be nice xD I would love to know your thoughts - if you have any requests or anything, I'm happy to oblige. ALSO -- I have only seen up to Season 7 of Criminal Minds because I'm a fckn loser. Anywayyyyy enjoy! Not my gif btw, all credit to the owner :)

———————————

It was kind of your fault, now that you were thinking back on it.

Actually, it was definitely your fault, now that you were thinking back on it.

It had been your suggestion to go out. It had been your idea to act as Spencer’s wingwoman, some last-ditch effort to try to get him out of your mind. He was your coworker, for Christ’s sake. And your best friend. And you’d thought about him desperately for eight of the nine months that you’d known him.

Emily, Derek, and Penelope had all agreed to tag along, but as the work day went on, each of your coworkers had found some kind of excuse to opt-out. Derek’s niece wanted to Facetime. Penelope forgot Kevin’s birthday was next week and needed to go shopping for a present. Emily had a headache.

Finding Spencer a romantic prospect on your own was certainly not the plan, but, stupidly, thoughtlessly, you’d decided to go along with it. You could do this. Just one night in a bar, chatting up women for the man you’d slowly been falling for the past eight months. As good of an idea as any, right?

You and Spencer took an Uber to the bar the group frequented. Ski-ball and pool in one corner, a vintage jukebox and small space set aside as a makeshift dance floor in the other. But the best part - half-off drinks for federal agents. You’d never been one to abuse the badge before, but…

Three Jack-and-Diet-Cokes later, your moral code had a bit of a crack in it.

Spencer stood next to you - towered over you, actually, because that man was a fucking beanpole - and you felt his eyes on you as you scanned the crowd. “What about her?” you suggested, jerking your chin to the woman at a high-top table against the wall. She had her nose stuck in her phone and an untouched martini on the table in front of her.

“She’s clearly waiting for someone,” Spencer pointed out, and you realized he was right just as the woman looked up from her phone and towards the door for the third time in the past minute. “I also don’t understand why you’re so dead set on finding someone to hog me up with.”

You snorted into your drink. “Hog you up with?” you repeated, turning in your barstool so you faced him. Your knees brushed his thighs.

“Yeah, is that not…” realization dawned on Spencer and he grimaced. “That’s not the phrase, is it?”

“Hook,” you corrected, but not impatiently. You made a little hook with your index finger, like a pirate. A little giggle escaped you. “And I’m not dead set on it,” you argued. “I just didn’t want to be the only one leaving the bar with someone.”

Your eyes flickered up to Spencer’s to gauge his reaction. He seemed surprised by this implication that you planned to leave with someone - someone who was not him.

“Yeah? Who are you leaving with, matey?” Spencer countered, arching a brow and pointedly looking at your index finger, still in its hooked position. You dropped your hand.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” you blushed furiously, desperately trying to drive the conversation back to his romantic conquests. Your thought process was that if you actually saw Spencer with someone else in any sort of romantic capacity - dancing, flirting, kissing - you’d finally hurt yourself enough with the sight for those stupid feelings for him to dissipate. “We’re looking for you.”

Spencer merely hmm-ed in response, an indecisive non-answer, and you noticed he shook his head. Like he was annoyed, but trying not to show it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and polished off your drink before returning to examining the patrons in the bar. You nudged Spencer’s elbow with your own and your gaze landed on the group of three women giggling around one of the tables. “Any of them? The blonde is cute,” you pointed out.

“Not really into blondes,” Spencer muttered, and you glanced back at him. You could have sworn his eyes were locked on your brunette hair. You opened your mouth to say something, but Spencer cut you off. “But, sure, if watching me strike out will amuse you, Y/N.” Before you could protest, Spencer set his glass down on the bar and started towards the trio of women at the table.

You leaned down to sniff his glass, curious as to what he’d been drinking. Clear liquid. No smell. Was he… totally sober?

You watched with narrowed, studious eyes as Spencer approached the women. You could only see the back of his head, but the three women’s faces were perfectly visible. They smiled, friendly, unassuming, and then something came out of Spencer’s mouth that changed their expressions. The blonde in the middle furrowed her brows, and the two women on either side cocked their heads slightly. Spencer’s hand tapped the table and he earned awkward smiles as a goodbye was bid, and when he turned around to head back towards the bar, he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, like what are you gonna do?

“What happened?” you asked as he returned to you.

“I blew it,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. Too accepting of his defeat. Further supporting your theory that he’d gone over there and purposefully botched it.

“Right,” you flagged down the bartender to order another drink.

“You’re getting another one?” Spencer asked.

You whirled your face to meet his and didn’t see judgment, but rather, concern. “Why does it matter?” you asked, no, dared.

Spencer shook his head, defeatedly. “It doesn’t,” he grumbled.

“What about that girl you were talking to earlier by the jukebox?” you asked, nudging his shin with your foot. “The grabby one. She seemed really into you.”

Spencer visibly gritted his teeth. “I’m not interested.”

“Are you interested in anyone in this bar tonight?” You asked. The words came too quickly for you to stop them. They were too real. Especially as Spencer’s frown hardened just slightly and you watched him look away from you.

You took in a sharp inhale, the realization hitting you, the possibility that Spencer might actually feel the same way about you. And that you’d dragged him out here tonight to try and set him up with someone else. You were selfish and thoughtless and stupid.

You hopped off the barstool, your feet wavering beneath you. “I’d better go home,” you said suddenly, grabbing your bag. You had to leave. You had to go home before you said something stupid, something irreversible.

You stalked out of the bar and onto the brisk, late-autumn sidewalk. You’d forgotten your coat at the office and insisted you’d be fine. The chill smacked you in the face and you tucked your bag beneath your shoulder so you could cross your arms over your chest and hug yourself for any semblance of warmth.

Thirty seconds hadn’t even passed before the door creaked and Spencer appeared at your side, throwing his coat wordlessly over your shoulders. “What did I do?” he asked. You looked up at him and saw his eyes - hurt, frustrated, confused.

Your lips parted and there was a small shake of your head. “No,” you breathed. He furrowed his brows and you explained further. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why the hell have you been so weird around me lately?” Spencer asked, scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. Like a temperamental first-grader.

“Weird how?” You asked, trying to pretend like you had no idea what he was talking about. Like your stomach didn’t flip every morning when you saw him.

“Like you’re… like you’re mad at me. Like you don’t want to be around me,” Spencer looked at the street ahead of the both of you rather than at you. “You always find an excuse to leave the room when it’s just the two of us. You pull Derek or Emily or Penelope into the conversation so you don’t have to interact with just me. You’re out here trying to find me someone to hook up with?” he phrased the last sentence as a question, shaking his head. Your heart lurched. He let out an incredulous laugh. “It’s either you’re trying to shrug me off as a friend entirely, or -”

He stopped himself. His eyes were fixed on the streetlamp a few feet in front of you. They widened and you felt your heart pound as he slowly met your gaze. The realization hit him, the second half of his sentence lingering, heavy and palpable between the two of you.

“Or,” you repeated, not phrasing it as a question. Your voice was soft as you said it, your tone anything but a question.

“Or?” Spencer asked, and you could see his chest start to rise and fall more slowly.

“Or,” you confirmed, taking in a sharp breath.

Spencer’s throat bobbed as he looked at you, his gaze piercing and soft, studious and lazy, hungry and satiated all at once. “Oh.”

Oh.

“How long?” he asked, turning his feet towards you.

Your face went red and you lifted your chin, refusing to make yourself feel ashamed of it anymore. There wasn’t any point, not when he knew now. “Since March,” you admitted. Your voice was squeaky.

“March?” Spencer repeated, incredulous. It was early October now.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and bunching it up by the middle. You handed it to him. “You don’t have to say anything,” you said. Your body felt like it was on fire. “You don’t have to-”

“I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.”

You thought maybe you were hallucinating for a second. Your mouth fell open and despite your three drinks, you remembered clearly that Spencer had been drinking water. This was not some drunken confession, not for either of you, because the second he’d asked you why you had been so weird lately, you had instantly sobered up. “Oh,” was all you managed to choke out.

Oh.

“Yeah, oh,” Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smile. That playful, friendly, teasing little smile you’d learned to love on him. He stepped towards you.

You let out this little half-garbled laugh. Spencer reached for your hand, and you let him. Your fingers spread, allowing his in the spaces between. You looked up at Spencer and little fires shot up your hand. How could merely holding hands feel so monumental?

“What do we… what do we do now?” You asked, your mind in a haze, like a computer awaiting command.

Spencer let his jacket fall to the concrete and used his other hand to slowly, almost hesitantly, cup your cheek. He looked down at you and your entire face reddened. “Well,” his voice was soft, crackling, like a fireplace, and he met your gaze with searching eyes. “I’d like to kiss you now, if that would be okay,” he said finally. Your lips turned up into an idiotic smile.

“I think that would be okay,” you whispered.

His hands were so soft, you realized. His grip on your hand loosened and he was now cupping your face on both sides. And every nerve in your cheeks was firing off signals - Spencer is touching my face, Spencer is touching my face. Like it was some forbidden thing. But then, as if in slow motion, he ducked his head down and his lips touched yours. Gently, at first, tentative and wobbly like a foal taking its first steps. Your hands rested on his torso - taut beneath that stupid little sweater vest.

He pulled back after just a moment. It was really only five or six seconds at the most, but you were red-faced and breathless by the time your eyes fluttered open, into his. Spencer’s smile was now a full-blown grin, and your expression mirrored his. “Yeah?” He asked, the word carrying more meaning. You’re into this, right?

“Yeah,” you exhaled as Spencer dropped his hands from your face, but your hands remained on his torso, not wanting to step away just yet. The syllable meant more coming from you, too. I’m really, very much, super into this. Please, for the love of god, kiss me again.

Spencer arched a brow ever so slightly, and you nodded your head.

Just like a dance, Spencer’s hands moved to your waist, and at the same time, you slid yours around his neck. He backed you up, completely disregarding his jacket on the sidewalk, until you were flush against the brick wall belonging to the bar. The brisk October breeze ruffled through his hair and yours, yet, suddenly, neither of you were terribly concerned about the weather.

He kissed you again, and this time it wasn’t as timid. Slowly, at first, his lips pressed against yours, and then his tongue darted out. It teased your lips in silent invitation, and you opened them to grant him access. His hands were everywhere, your hips, your hair, your face. You had moved your own down to his torso again. He coaxed the tiniest little mewl out of your throat, a completely uncontrollable and inevitable noise.

Spencer’s low, gravelly groan reverberated through your mouth. Your hands gripped the bottom half of his shirt, balling it up in tight, white-knuckled fists. An unmistakable hardness brushed against your thigh. You were perfectly content to stay right there, pinned against the exterior wall of a D.C. bar, but the sound of a car honking its horn peeled Spencer off of you.

His face was flushed and you released his shirt from your grasp. He let out a small grunt, stepping away from you to grab his jacket off the ground, wrinkling it haphazardly in his hand, holding it strategically over his middle.

Oh, he liked you a lot.

“You okay, Spence?” You asked all-knowingly, cocking your head to the side, leaning against the wall, lifting a foot to plant against it.

Spencer shot a set of narrowed eyes at you, as if noting your smirk and storing it for later. “Yeah, I’m great,” he said, obviously struggling a little bit. His eyes quickly left yours and looked everywhere but at you.

You didn’t want to embarrass him too much. So you just crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the sidewalk. But the smirk on your face wasn’t going away quite so easily. You considered briefly trying to talk to him about baseball or something to try and help him out, but you decided pointing it out would just humiliate him. Plus, it was a nice little ego boost, knowing you could get him like that with just a simple touch.

He took a second, but he finally cleared his throat and met your gaze. You sucked your front teeth with your tongue and then bit your lip. “Want me to call an Uber?” You asked.

Spencer just nodded, and you pushed yourself off the wall, stepping over to join him, digging your phone out of your pocket to order the car. “You okay?” You asked him again after submitting the request on your phone. Spencer’s face was still flushed, but he just nodded and reached for your hand. “Careful,” you warned, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. “Don’t want you having an-“

“Shut up,” Spencer cut you off, and you snickered.

——————————————————

You had never been in Spencer’s apartment before. It was unmistakably his, with stacks upon stacks of books in lieu of furniture.

There was a sofa in his living room, along with a coffee table, a couple of lamps, and a television on a stand. The remaining space, besides a few spots here and there and a clear path with which to maneuver the room, was filled with books.

You had never seen so many books in someone’s possession before. And sure, you were an avid reader yourself. But nothing like this. Your heart fluttered at the sight, not only because books simply just made you happy, but because it was an incredibly endearing detail about Spencer. Your Spencer.

He shut and locked the door after you stepped inside, looking around with a childlike, awestruck grin. The TV had a thin layer of dust over the screen - he clearly didn’t use it often. And as you trailed a finger along the top of the nearest stack of books, you felt a pair of eyes watching your every move.

You and Spencer had both been quiet in the Uber ride here. He had simply held your hand, swiping his thumb across the back of your palm every few seconds. You would occasionally meet his gaze, but then quickly, bashfully, look away, like the two of you were teenagers.

It was so strange to think of what he had said to you - I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met. How had you not figured it out before now?

You supposed you had been hiding your true feelings as well, so he was allowed to, too.

There wasn’t any point in wishing to change the past, you reminded yourself. All you should be focusing on is right now.

And right now, the street lamps peeked in through Spencer’s living room window, glinting off of his endless brown eyes and making them look like he had the moon in his irises.

“So,” you said softly, not nearly as wicked as you had been when you were teasing him on the street by the bar. “This is where you live.”

“Uh-huh,” Spencer bobbed his head, that awkward, straight-line smile crossing his face.

“Lot of books,” you pointed out.

“Yep.”

You arched a brow, a teasing smile crossing your face once again. “What’s with the monosyllabic conversation?”

Spencer clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. “It’s just… really difficult to just stand here and not touch you,” he admitted, a sheepish smile crossing his face.

You grinned. “You can touch me,” your voice dropped an octave, without you even really thinking about it.

Spencer licked a canine with the tip of his tongue. God, that tongue. You remembered how he’d teased you less than an hour ago outside of the bar. “Maybe I will,” he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes.

“You can’t really play it cool, right now, Spencer. Not when I just gave you a-“

“Please stop talking,” Spencer laughed, crossing the room and cupping your cheeks in his hands all in the same movement. You snickered and he kissed you and anything you might have been wanting to make fun of him for was forgotten about.

You pressed your hands against his chest - holy pectorals, Batman - and craned your neck up so you could reach him. Spencer slid his own hands down your arms and to your hips, and you looped your arms around his neck. One palm flattened against the back of his head, holding him in place, fingers curling around pieces of his soft hair.

Your heart was hammering away, and there was this aching, hot feeling that was pooling in your core and you all of a sudden felt hungry. Starving for Spencer, for every piece of him, for fully and finally crossing that line from friend to lover. An insatiable hunger for nearly every moment since you’d known him.

Finally you broke away from him, simply because oxygen was a necessity, and he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes were still closed and your fingers ground into his scalp. “Look at me,” he requested, his voice low.

Your eyes opened obediently and one of Spencer Reid’s hands curled under your chin. His face moved away from yours but his gaze was locked on yours, a pinpoint, a Northern Star.

And when Spencer spoke again, your knees buckled.

“I want you.”

Your mouth fell open, ever so slightly, and you nodded. “I want you, too,” you whispered.

“Are you still…?” He asked, his eyes searching yours. You’d had three drinks earlier that evening, after all, but you’d polished the last one off nearly an hour ago. Maybe not fully sober, but sober enough to know what you wanted.

“I’m fine,” you assured him.

Spencer inclined his head to the side. “You’re sure? Can you pass a sobriety test?”

You narrowed your eyes at him before you realized he was being sarcastic. You stepped back from him, shrugging off his hands, and extended your arms, touching your nose with your left hand, then your right. Spencer just laughed, and reached out for you, tugging you back to him. “Okay,” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your neck. You let him. “You’re fine, then?”

“I’m fine,” you agreed, shrugging him out of his sweater vest, and then reaching for the buttons on his shirt underneath.

Spencer kissed your neck as you fumbled with the buttons - how were buttons suddenly impossible to undo? Your head craned back just slightly on instinct, wanting - needing - to allow Spencer more access. Your dexterity had become abysmal at this point, and Spencer’s lips were kissing your neck, down your throat, teasing at your collarbone. “Spencer,” you managed to groan out, a wave of annoyance present in your tone.

“What?” he asked, pulling back, concern filling his face.

You realized you had actually worried him. “Oh, no, no,” you waved it away, and he visibly relaxed. “I’m just really frustrated, because… because your shirt,” you stammered, and Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smirk.

“My shirt,” he stated.

“That one, right here,” You laughed softly, curling your fingers around the buttons. You managed to wiggle one free, then another. Spencer leaned forward to continue kissing your neck, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Hang on,” you murmured, working through another button, and one more. “I’m concentrating.”

“You’re sticking your tongue out,” Spencer snickered. Your eyes met his and your cheeks flushed.

“I’m concentrating!” Your voice rose slightly in self-defense. Spencer’s hands went to your hips.

“It’s adorable,” he told you. “You make the same face at work. When you’re in the middle of filling out a form or trying to open a new bottle of coffee creamer without spilling it,” Spencer rubbed circles in your hips and your fingers stopped working again.

“You noticed that kind of stuff?” You asked softly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Spencer just nodded. “All the time.”

I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.

You inhaled sharply, finally undoing the last button.The skin beneath the shirt was pale, smooth, and perfect. And when he slid his arms through the sleeves and the shirt fell to the ground, you bit your lip, unable to help it.

“Y/N?”

You met Spencer’s gaze and let out this awkward little laugh. Embarrassing, really, if you hadn’t been in the company of your best friend. “You okay?” he asked, and you felt a little giddy as you nodded, moving your hands to his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him again.

You didn’t know which direction the bedroom was in, so you just took a guess, pushing him back towards one of the doors. He kept his hands on your hips and his lips pressed against yours as he guided you, walking backwards, to the right door. You entered the bedroom and could not possibly be bothered to look around right now, not when Spencer was guiding you in a circle by merely touching your hips, not when the back of your knees hit what was unmistakably a mattress, not when you fell back against it.

Your eyes were shut, unwilling to take in your surroundings as Spencer guided you onto your back. You toed off your shoes before lifting your legs, and Spencer hovered over you. Your lips were locked with his the entire time. And when you finally opened your eyes and you saw only Spencer, you grinned like a fool.

Spencer’s fingers were like taking a shower. They were all over you - your hips, first, then your stomach, and you had to resist the urge to giggle because they tickled as he teased the bottom hem of your shirt up. You sat up slightly to get the blouse over your head and you watched him discard it onto the floor. And then his hands were over your chest, thumbs teasing under the wire of your bra, outlining the shapes of your breasts.

Your breathing had gone heavy and staccato by this point, your body sinking into the mattress, shipwrecked as Spencer touched you. His eyes wandered over your and that little smile on his face was enough for you to know that he was immensely enjoying himself.

“Can I…?” Spencer’s hands wandered down and gripped your pants as he looked into your eyes, a brow arched.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and your blush appeared over your cheeks at the same time as his. “Yeah,” you whispered, and Spencer helped you wiggle out of your pants - black slacks, since you had gone straight from work to the bar. They were soon tossed to the floor, and you were only in your underwear and your bra. And Spencer’s brown eyes did not make you feel objectified or embarrassed, but safe.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he told you, seriously, and your breath hitched in your throat.

“You-”

“I’m not done,” Spencer cut you off, lifting a hand to run his thumb down your chin. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re so kind, and smart, and funny. And I’d really like to show you how much I care about you,” he looked into your eyes as a sort of request.

“I’m not on birth control,” You breathed out in response, feeling your cheeks redden for even bringing it up. Way to damper the mood. Still, you wanted to be responsible. “Do you have a c-”

Spencer’s soft smile turned into a wicked grin and he shook his head. “We’re not going to need one,” he promised, and after looking into his eyes for a moment, you understood.

________________________________________

Spencer had thoroughly worshiped you, until you quaked and cried out with absolutely no thought to how thin his apartment walls might be. Usually, you didn’t allow yourself to be the center of attention for too long, but Spencer had insisted, and, well, you couldn’t very well deny him what he wanted, right?

Covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your hair matted to the back of your neck, Spencer finally lay down beside you. Your breathing was just starting to come back to you as you turned on your side to face him. Spencer’s body mirrored yours, the tips of his fingers - those fingers - trailing up the side of your arm. “That was…” his voice was soft, gravelly, and he looked at you like you had anything to do with it. It was literally all him. “Incredible.”

“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out, unable to really focus on anything besides the curve of Spencer’s lips, the way the apples of his cheeks appeared when he smiled like this. Spencer kissed your lips, unlike any way he had before. All the other kisses tonight had been hungry and excited, exploratory and new. This one was lazy and slow and you let his tongue dance across yours, and when he finally pulled away, your nose scrunched up in delight.

Your eyes traveled from his lips, down his neck, his collarbone, then back up, taking him in. The glow of his skin, the tired yet exhilarated look in his eyes. So different now than at the beginning of the night, when he’d looked at you with that slightly annoyed expression as you had tried to set him up with other women. You recalled how he had gone off to that group of three women right before you’d abandoned the bar, how he had struck out on purpose just to satiate your nagging. “What’d you say to those women tonight?” You asked him curiously, furrowing your brows at him.

Spencer, in turn, arched his brows at you. “Why?”

“Because I’m curious,” you said as his fingers continued to trail, feather-light, up and down your arm. You traced your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin. “You were obviously blowing it on purpose.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I actually do have some game, despite what Morgan might say,” he said, his tone defensive.

You snickered. “Sure you do, Spence. Took you, what, eight months, to get me in your bed?”

Spencer shot a playful glare at you and pinched the skin on your arm. You squeaked in response and he just laughed. “I just asked them how they were doing tonight,” he said finally, and you knew just from the look on his face that he was lying.

“You did not,” you pushed back. “Come on, Reid, spill it.”

“Ok, fine,” Spencer heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, sitting up in the bed, his back against the headboard. You sat up, too, looking at him with concern. Why was he so embarrassed? “I told them… Jesus.” Spencer rubbed the space between his brows with his thumb and his forefinger. “I told them I was here with a coworker that I had a massive crush on, and that you were trying to set me up with someone else,” he began.

You started to smile.

Spencer continued. “I told them that I had absolutely no interest in going home with anyone tonight, and that I had been purposefully striking out all night long because I couldn’t stand the thought of even trying to look at someone the way I look at you.”

Your smile grew and you moved to sit on your knees, inching closer to Spencer and throwing one leg over him, effectively straddling him against the mattress. “So I asked them,” Spencer continued, his lips turning slowly from an exasperated frown to a small smile. “I asked them if they could just look at me like I had said something stupid, and then I would leave them alone.”

“Did they say anything to that?” You asked as Spencer’s hands found your hips, contouring to match the curves into the small of your back.

Spencer’s voice got slightly lower, more serious, when he said, “The girl in the middle did. She said ‘that girl definitely has feelings for you, too’. And then they did what I asked, and I walked back over to you.”

“She did not say that,” you rolled your eyes, just as Spencer kissed your lips.

“I have an eidetic memory, Y/N,” he reminded you in a low whisper, as his lips lingered against yours. “Would I lie to you about that?”

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twizzie-lairs · 7 months

Text

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 11)

Have a nice big chapter/part for the weekend! :D

Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Part 11:

Did.. did Charlie just say... Alastor?

You felt someone poke your face, multiple times, all at once, "Hey, Hey, miss bandage face, you good?"

You blink rapidly, being pulled out of your stupor and laugh awkwardly, "Ah haha, uh yeah. Yup, I'm good... Haha, thanks Angel.."

Angel just squints at you, not convinced of your act at all but just sighs and says, "Alright, whatever you say, weirdo.." and then returns back to chatting with Husk.

Vaggie, who was sitting next to you struck up a conversation, "Are you really sure you're okay to be up and around already? You look like you saw a ghost or something."

You briefly glanced at the radio that was sitting on the mantle on the wall before returning your attention to Vaggie, "Yeah, being up was much better than sitting doing nothing, I thought I was going to waste away if I didn't do something."

Vaggie sighs and nods her head, "I know the feeling."

"And.. I swear I thought I heard Charlie mention the name Al-"

"Alastor! You're back! We have a new guest staying at the hotel! Come say hi!" Charlie shot out of her seat as soon as she saw Alastor's shadows start to manifest, signaling his return.

You felt your blood run cold as your suspicions were confirmed. Yes, she just said Alastor. How common could that name be down here? This is just a coincidence, surely- Of all names!

"My, my dear Charlie, you seem quite excited! I haven't seen you bouncing off the walls like this in ages!" Alastor chuckles as he allows Charlie to practically drag him over by the wrist to the group.

He sounds like a radio host...

Your breath starts to quicken as Charlie guides him over to you, his aura feels so oppressive, unlike any Overlord you had ever met before... But what made your hair really stand on the back of your neck was the static noise that filled the air as he got closer. You felt your eyes shake and your gut sink in your stomach.

What was this feeling?

You gulp and look up, eyes wide, looking like a deer in headlights as you make eye contact with this "Alastor".

"Go on! Introduce yourself!" You felt Charlie nudge you excitedly, in an attempt to nudge you out of your frozen state.

On his face, a large, creepy grin/smile- (if you could even call it that) grew even larger on his face - a feat you didn't even know was possible. You felt like you should be scared but then... It dawned on you.

That feeling in your gut dissipated instantly and it felt like a weight got suddenly lifted off your chest.

This was Alastor. This was your Alastor.

Tears start rolling down your face uncontrollably as your body is racked with sobs.

"Heyyy! Hey! It's okay, (y/n)! I know Al can be a wee bit intimidating sometimes but I promise he's not a bad guy! Well... mostly.. haha..." Charlie trails off with a nervous chuckle as she scrambles around the lobby to find you some tissues to dry your tears.

Upon hearing your name said out loud, a loud record scratch filled the air.

"Haha... ha...Charlie, dearest! My, you'd think the years are catching up to me! Was that some sort of joke? Why, I didn't know you wanted to become a comedian! Did you say.. (y/n)? That must be a mistake. I've only ever known one person by that name and they surely couldn't have ended up in Hell of all places!" Alastor chuckles, the laugh track coming from his staff warping as he hovers over Charlie with an intimidating aura- thinking she was playing some sort of sick joke on him.

Charlie whips around to see Alastor up in her face and then she scrambles back, "Woah! What? Alastor! Gods, no, why would I joke about our new guest? That would go against everything i'm trying to do here!"

Alastor's gaze darts over to you, "You see, I think this '(y/n)' and I need to have a chat..." His eyes narrow as he makes quotation marks with his fingers as he says your name.

He walks towards you and grabs your wrist with force, finger like claws starting to dig into your arm- despite protest from Charlie and Vaggie to let you go- to stop harassing their new guest because you were still quite injured and fragile. Even Angel and Husk got up from their seats at the bar after hearing the commotion in the lounge and started yelling at him to stop hurting you because it was very apparent that you were in pain with how rough he was handling you.

Then, with a snap, he teleports you and himself up to his radio tower- away from all the commotion.

Alastor slams the door shut with a fury that you've never seen before, and locks it to make sure you won't even try to make a feeble attempt at an escape.

He was powerful. Alastor knew he didn't really need to lock the door because with his power, he could vaporize you before you even thought of making a dash for the door. He did it as an intimidation tactic because he knew the fear it instilled in his prey.

Now, walking towards you, he pointed his staff at your chest, and leaned in close to your face. Strange static and symbols fill the air as he and his antlers grow in size, towering over you.

"Now... who are you really? You get one chance to make a feeble excuse before I kill you and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear, for making a mockery of my dear (y/n) by taking the name of my beloved and masquerading around Hell- thinking you can show up here like this to try and mess with ME- tHe RaDiO DEMON."

You see dark shadows and tentacle-like masses appear, and you stumble backward until your back hits a wall, never breaking eye contact with him- your lip quivering in fear.

"I.. But- It... is me...hun... I missed you so much..." You whisper with a somber smile that's quickly warped into an ugly crying face. The unrelenting tears keep rolling down your face, and your left hand reaches up towards his even more demonically altered form that towers over you in a desperate attempt to get him to recognize you.

Before you can touch his face, one of his hands snatches your wrist and pulls it closer to himself to examine the sparkle that caught his eye as you started to reach out to him, roughly jostling you and lifting you up in the air by your wrist as a result.

You wince briefly at the pain in your wrist and shoulder joints as he examines your hand when you remember you were wearing your ring. You never took it off all these years.

You could hear his breath hitch just ever so slightly over the static as he gently put you down and let your feet touch the floor again.

Alastor realized that the ring on your left ring finger was the exact one he had gotten for you- the one he put on your ring finger right before he buried you right the night you were brutally assaulted and murdered back when he was alive.

He slowly morphed back into his "normal" form. (Normal for Hell, that is, this was an entirely new look for him from what you remembered when he was alive).

The shock dawning on him that it really was you was apparent as he took a few steps back, still holding your hand. He looked at you in disbelief, the look of pure shock was just like how you had looked at him initially in the lobby.

Then suddenly, he pulled you into a warm embrace, "My dearest... I am so sorry for hurting you. My darling... whatever are you doing here? Someone like you doesn't belong here!"

Now, holding your face in both of his hands, he wiped your tears with the most gentle expression on his face, a stark contrast from the nightmarish demonic one just a moment ago. and you could almost swear you could see the slightest traces of a misty look in his eyes as he held you.

His claw-like fingers slightly dug into your face, but not enough to hurt, as he examined your new appearance, his gaze turning from soft into a hardened expression once again. Almost snarling, he began to ask you again, "Tell me, darling, tell me the name of the gods forsaken angel bastard that cast you down from Heaven. I will find a way to make them pay. I'll make them ALL pay for this... NO ONE will ever harm you again..." The strange symbols and glitchy auras were threatening to come out again.

You sniffled, still trying to calm down your tears, which immediately made him halt in his tracks and turn his attention back to you at this moment.

You looked at the ground, and you knew you couldn't avoid this conversation forever, "Hun... I... Before we met... there was something I never told you-" Before you could finish, you felt your legs start to wobble underneath you- the adrenaline was starting to fade and you were starting to feel some of the pain from your previous injuries come back to you.

"Please, my love, take a seat first." He guided you to a set of a table and two chairs. Ever the gentleman, he pulled your chair out for you and helped made sure you were alright before he sat down across the table from you.

You put your hands on the table, a signal he immediately picked up on as a sign to envelop your hands in his. You looked at him in the eyes with a look of shame that scrunched up your face as you prepared to tell him the truth, "Alastor, hun... I never went to Heaven..."

You swore you heard another record scratch before a quiet hum of static filled the air again. Alastor chuckled, "Oh my dear, never lost your sense of humor, I see!"

A look of even deeper shame washes over your face as you break eye contact with him and stare at his hands that held your's on the table, "It's true. Alastor..." You sigh deeply, feeling an aching pain in your chest, not only from your injuries but also from the mental anguish you were dealing with as you shakily begin to explain everything about your past. Your shitty family and messed-up inlaws. Your narcissistic, unloving, and abusive ex-husband that you killed.

You painstakingly revealed every single minute detail. You told him everything.

-> Part 12

Tag List:

@mysticwitchcraftco @lil-bexie @lonely-burger @cherry-cola-100 @angelxx7 @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 @avitute @justhellacesome @mcrtrashfan @spookysisters

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malusmagpie · 1 year

Text

His Best Girl.

Pairing: Anakin x Jedi!Fem Reader

Summary: You two used to be thick as thieves but The Council split you up. Anakin isn't having that go on any longer.

Warnings: 18+ !!!! SMUTTY !!!! Taking virginity, jealousy, restraint, dirty talk/praise kink, hair pulling, dominance, "master" kink, neck kissing, biting, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, etc.

A/N: Y/N/N means your nick name! Inspo from a drabble by @skywlker-sluvtt about the reader being a virgin/inexperienced. Surprise! It's a long one again. I haven't ever written one shots this long idk what's come over me. (It's Anakin. Anakin has come over me.) I love the anakin x jedi reader trope and I can world build forever with it. Anyways, enjoy you filthy animals and thank you so much for the love!! <3 Y'all have made me feel very welcome here.

Word Count: 4.4k

You were just a little girl when you were taken in by the Jedi Council. You remember how wide your eyes were as you watched the planet of Coruscant get closer and closer. You were 8. Anakin was 11. You both clicked quickly and were essentially glued to each others hips. You’d talk yourselves into trouble, sneak out to go stare at the stars at midnight and throw food at each other in the dining hall instead of eating.

When you were children that was fine, it was nothing a stern talking to couldn’t fix. As you grew older, the council began to take strict measures to ensure you two would only be together when absolutely necessary. They decided it was in both of your best interests to stay away from each other and the bond you two shared eventually dwindled. Instead of whispering while a Master was attempting to do their teaching, the two of you would barely exchange glances. You’d walk silently in a single file line to the dining hall, no longer bothering to take the heat for walking next to each other.

The whispering and laughing turned into polite nods and common greetings said in passing. You’d walk right by him and bow your head at him, he’d reciprocate with a fairly neutral expression gracing his features. You’d always feel his head turn to look back at you as you walked in opposite direction, he found himself often wishing he could call over his shoulder and tease you and tell you your form needed work or that your footwork was a mess like he used to when you were young.

You were 19 now. Anakin was 22. You’d barely looked at each other or spoken for longer than a few moments in years. The fear of going against the Councils wishes outweighed your nostalgia for the friendship you once shared. You wanted to be great and so did Anakin. So the two of you focused on becoming the people you’d both dreamed of being.

It wasn’t long until Anakin was knighted. The ceremony was filled with toasts and speeches. You sat with the small group of girls that you had become friendly with over the years and ate your meticulously prepared meal. Anakin sat next to Obi-Wan, along with the other Jedi Masters at the long table at the front of the room. You wished you could give him a hug, congratulate him, tell him he deserved the praise he was getting. He had grown so much you often had a hard time recognizing the little boy you once knew.

You did your fair share of filling out as well. Anakin didn’t let that go unnoticed as his eyes would trail over you when you’d find yourselves in a shared space. When he thought you weren’t looking his eyes would take in every inch of you but you could feel him. You felt every movement of his eyes on you and you could never bare it so you’d often excuse yourself.

That trend continued tonight and as you sat in the large dining hall you felt eyes looking over you. It was such a strong gaze you could practically feel it like fingers touching on the skin under your Jedi appointed uniform. You shivered as you placed your fork next to your plate. Your eyes darted over to Anakin who, to no surprise, was looking right at you. Your tongue darted out to soften your suddenly dry lips and you pressed them into a hint of a smile. He returned the small smile and looked back at Obi-Wan who was proudly speaking to him about their last mission together.

The feeling of his gaze made your stomach flip and you stood up, excusing yourself politely. The need to use the bathroom as a safe space to calm yourself grew within you. You walked through the rows of tables, still feeling a set of eyes on you, and felt a hand lightly grasp your arm and your head snapped to look down at a boy you had trained with once before smiling up at you from his chair. He had dark short hair and piercing green eyes.

“You look nice tonight.” He smiled at you and you raised an eyebrow. “I look the same as I always do.” You muttered, confused and still feeling eyes on you. The gaze harshened and you dropped your head, ignoring it. “Yeah but.. Your hair. You left it down. It’s nice.” He smiled again, he was handsome but this really was not your prerogative. You smiled politely at him and mumbled a thanks to get the interaction over with before scurrying to the bathroom.

Anakin looked between you and the boy as you two spoke, desperately trying to read lips, focus on your voices through the Force, anything to know what was going on. When you smiled he felt his hand tighten around the glass he was raising to his lips. There was a level of possessiveness that Anakin held on to when it came to you. Growing up you were his best friend. His favorite. His best girl. Now you were effectually strangers and it killed him a little every day when you’d curl your perfect lips into a shy smile at him, or wave your soft looking hand at him in passing. He didn’t act on it now when he saw the way the guys would look at you and talk to you but he sure as hell felt jealousy bubble up within him every time it happened. He placed the glass down a little harder than even he expected, his hands pushed against the table so he could stand up. He adjusted his robe as he stood and looked at Obi-Wan. “I’ll be right back.” He muttered as he stepped away from the commotion in the dining hall. He made sure to slip past the boy who had been speaking to you, standing tall and walking confidently. The quiet washed over him as the door of the dining hall closed behind him.

You were standing in the bathroom in front of one of the giant mirrors at the sinks. Your hand combed its way through the ends of your hair, as you tried to make the soft natural curls you had look more presentable. You sighed in frustration when they simply stayed the way they were. You pulled your Jedi robe down and tucked it further into your utility belt to make it look less lumpy from sitting down. The small amount of makeup you had attempted to put on looked alright but it made you mad regardless. Why couldn’t it just look perfect? You thought. You groaned and placed your hands on the corner of the counter, leaning toward your own reflection. You’d never cared about what you looked like before but something about that boys words made your mind go straight to over thinking. “So stupid.” You whispered to yourself.

You felt something, or somebody near you. The Force wasn’t hard to navigate when it was this quiet and your eyes darted to the reflection of the door behind you in the mirror. You watched the door crack open and a sandy blonde head peered in. Anakin pushed the rest of the door open and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He made sure to lock it incase somebody came in and gave him shit for being in the women’s lavatory.

“What’re you doing in here?” You whispered, turning around to face him. You took a few steps toward him, only enough for your voice to travel to him without having to raise it. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the beam next to him. His broad shoulders raised and dropped and he looked over you again. “Just wanted to check on you.” He spoke with a small smile on his lips. Maker, you could tackle him to the ground when he did that.

You took a deep breath and looked around the room as you thought of what to say next. “Why would you check on me?” Your eyebrow raised slightly. “Wanted to make sure that little creep didn’t come in here with you.” His words were laced with an emotion you weren’t familiar with and you were taken aback. “Little creep? What are you-“ Your head raised a bit as you realized who and what he was talking about. “Him? He’s just somebody I practiced with one time. I wouldn’t- I’ve never..” Your brain found it increasingly hard to find the right words as you watched Anakin. His strong arms were still crossed over his large chest and he tightened his jaw every time you stuttered.

With a prompt shake of his head he took a step forward, his tongue pushed against the front of his teeth as he smiled with an unbelieving expression. “You’ve never what?” He said, his voice was surprisingly venomous as he spoke to you, you hadn’t gotten a chance to realize how tall he’d gotten until he stepped closer and towered over you. “Done something like that.” Your eyes dropped to gaze at the floor as you muttered the words that he had forced out of you.

There was silence for a moment. His thumb and pointer finger slipped under your chin and grasped it gently to make you look up at him. His blue eyes were a bit darker than normal and your heart skipped a beat at the close proximity you were in now. “Never?” He asked, his interrogation was completely unexpected. You opened and closed your mouth and decided to nod your head instead of let yourself try to speak again. He continued to stare down at you, his eyes searching yours for even a hint of dishonesty. He never found it. “Still my best girl..” He mumbled and your eyebrows pushed together. You hadn’t heard him say that in years though now, it seemed to have a bit of a different meaning to it.

“You’ve grown so much, Y/N/N.” He whispered as his face neared yours. You gulped the access saliva in your mouth down as you responded. “You have too, Ani.” Your words came out weak, you didn’t have the same confidence you normally carried yourself with and it made Anakin smirk. Your soft voice saying the nickname he only allowed you to use made his length twitch in his pants ever so slightly. He hummed and it was almost inaudible. Something about being the only one to know you as well as he did ignited something within him.

“You’ve grown.. But you’ve never had anything special.. Have you?” He whispered. “Something that made you feel good..” His words wrapped around you like an electric blanket and his hand moved to cup your cheek while his thumb caressed it. Your breathing shook and your eyes widened at his words. “N-no.” You muttered through your labored breathing. You could sense how excited this was making him and it was making you feel like you could throw up from anticipation of his next moves. Your cheeks reddened and your ears burned as he looked between your eyes and your lips. “Nobody’s ever gotten to feel those pretty lips? Or hear what could fall from between them?” You gasped quietly at his words and shook your head, your eyes never left his. His thumb moved to trace your lips gently and your eyes rolled back for a fraction of a second. His expression seemed to get more and more intense, his own breathing became a bit heavier.

“And those hands… Nobody’s ever felt how soft and useful they can be?” His free hand traced a finger down your arm before grabbing your hand. Your head was spinning as you shook your head again and he laughed softly. “Can’t even talk.. So fucking innocent.” He growled into your ear and your breath caught in your throat loudly. He smiled at the reactions he was getting from you. He used his grasp on your hand to turn the both of you around so your back was against the wall and he pinned your hand above your head.

“Anakin..” You muttered, your face was bright red and your breath just couldn’t be caught. His warm body pressed up against yours and you whimpered involuntarily at the feeling. He smirked at the reaction and began to place the softest of kisses on your neck, jaw, cheeks, and corners of your mouth. You bit your lip and took deep breaths through your nose. “Please kiss me.” You whined and his head lifted, eyes shining at you. He seemed physically unable to wipe the cunning smile off his face as he pressed his lips against yours. They were hot and soft, causing you to practically melt into him.

It was deep and longing, the feeling behind the kiss. He was smothering you and you couldn’t breathe but it was all worth it. Small breaths were caught between kisses and he stopped to whisper against your lips. “Open..” And you did. You opened your mouth for him and he immediately sucked on your tongue. You gasped and your eyes snapped open to see his still fluttered closed as he tangled his muscle with yours through open mouthed kisses. Your eyes squeezed shut again when his free hand palmed your breast, pushing upward, grabbing it and repeating. His name left your lips and his hips bucked toward yours ever so gently.

“Master Anakin.” He groaned, correcting you against your lips and you complied. “Master Anakin..” You whispered as your head bounced back against the wall in pleasure and you kept it there because he immediately moved his lips down to your neck. He left bites and sucked gently, even blowing on where he left his saliva and you flinched harder causing your free hand to snap up and grab hold of his hair. Your legs squeezed together as you stood against the wall for some kind of release and he stuck his knee between your legs.

“That’s my job.” He growled against your neck. He pushed your pants down with aggression and you kicked them off your feet. He sat on his knees in front of you and grabbed onto your hips, his fingers squeezed into your ass and you moaned. Your legs felt shaky as he sat with his face mere inches away from your heat. You eyed him with wide, curious eyes. You’d never felt like this before. Your now unrestrained hands pushed his hair back from his face and he peered up at you as he slid a finger between your folds. You let out a sound comparable to a squeak at the new feeling and he smirked.

“So wet… All for me, hm?” He whispered as he slid a single finger into your tight hole. Your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a breathy whimper. He laughed when you weren’t able to respond, your innocent nature made him feel dirty and perverted. He was eating it up as he slid in and out of you slowly, getting you used to the feeling. He pushed himself against your legs to keep your knees from buckling when he felt them shake even more, his free hand reached up and fondled your tits and it doubled as a way to keep you standing. His thumb pressed against your clit and he could feel it pulsating, causing another chuckle to leave his swollen lips. “So fucking eager.” He said with his eyes staring deep into yours as he slid a second finger inside of you. A yelp escaped your lips and you squirmed while he pushed his thumb against your clit and fingered you with one hand and rolled your nipple between his fingers with his other hand. You clenched around his fingers and he shushed you gently.

“Breathe, just let me make you feel good. Relax..” He whispered as he kept a slow and steady pace. You took a few breaths through gritted teeth and it made the pleasure feel all that much better as you relaxed around him. “That’s my girl.” He cooed as he circled his thumb around your clit and curved his fingers toward him causing him to push against the sensitive top wall of your pussy. A gasp escaped and you whined his name as he left kisses all over your hip bones. The warmth sent shivers down your back. Anakin removed his thumb when your eyes squeezed shut and you felt something warm and wet replace it on your clit. A louder gasp escaped your lips when you opened your eyes and saw his mouth on your clit and one of your hands gripped his hair tighter while the other flew toward your mouth in shock at the noise you made. He groaned at the feeling of you pulling his hair and the vibrations made another moan leave your mouth, barricaded by your hand.

“No need to be quiet. Nobody’s coming here..” He whispered and you remember he’d locked the door. You dropped your other hand back into his hair as he lapped away at your clit. The taste made him want to absolutely devour you and he tried his best to get as close as he could to doing so. His fingers moved quicker when he felt you begin to clench again and his tongue went from soft, flat licking to quick, pointed flicking.

“Such a pretty pussy..” He whispered into you. You felt something begin to tighten in your stomach and your back arched, causing you to grind on his face and your cheeks reddened when you realized how good it felt. You swung your hips back and forth desperately and whined his name out as you grinded on his face while he licked and finger fucked you. He smiled when he realized you’d never have known you liked to grind on his face without him, it filled him with pride and he felt his cock press against the zipper of his pants making them feel much tighter now.

One last flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers sent you spiraling over the edge, gasping for air and moaning.

“Oh gods, Master.” You exclaimed with a shaky voice between your moans as your body shook with ecstasy. You’d never felt like this before, your eyes screwed shut as you began to see little dots collect in your vision and you felt a little bit of fluid come out of your pussy, soaking his chin and fingers. He growled at the feeling and pulled his fingers out. He reached his hand to your lips as he stood up in front of you and you opened your mouth willingly. “Such a good girl for me.” He whispered as your eyes rolled back at the taste of yourself on him. When you opened your eyes again after collecting yourself you found his pants were already on the floor and he was working on the tedious layers on his top half. He threw his clothes to the side and caged you in against the wall with a grunt. You felt something long raise up between your legs and hit your pussy and you gasped. Your curious gaze found the culprit and you swore your eyes bulged out of your head.

His hands found their way to your thighs and he pulled on them, you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms swung around his neck, squeezing as if you’d fall if you let go. He chuckled. “I’m not gonna drop you.” He said in the cocky tone you knew and adored. Your arms loosened and your stomach flipped when you realized it was his strong arms keeping you levitating in front of him. Another groan escaped his lips at the flustered look on your face and you looked at him through your lashes with dazed, drooped eyes. He smirked and removed one hand to pump his cock as it teased your entrance. How could something that big fit inside of me? You thought to yourself as you labored your breathing. He sensed your nerves.

“You’ll be okay. You can take this, I know you can. You’re my best girl.” He cooed into your ear as you felt his tip push against your virgin hole. You bit on your lip and immediately felt his lips push against you gently. You let go and reciprocated the gentle kiss as he soaked himself in your juices for a moment and pushed the head in. You sucked in a sharp breath and your eyes stung. He looked at you. “Just like before, Y/N/N. Relax… You’re such a good girl.. You can take it.” He groaned between his own words at the feeling of your pussy around his cock. You took a few deep breaths as he slowly sheathed himself into you, his hip bones hit yours and he stopped to let you adjust.

“Good girl.. So fucking tight.” He whispered again, encouraging you to relax and you did. You let out a few more deep, shaky breaths and nodded to him, words weren’t exactly a possibility right now. He smiled and pushed his lips against yours to distract you a bit before he started to move slowly. In and out. In and out. His kisses migrated down your chin to your neck and you pushed your head against the wall. Your chest was rising and falling quicker and quicker as the discomfort began to feel like pleasure. You clenched a bit and moaned when it began to feel better, Anakin took that as his signal to pick up the pace. He stroked the inside of your pussy quicker and quicker, moving all the way to his head before pushing back into you. His grip on your hips tightened and he moaned against your neck. Your hands reached for his hair again, he seemed to enjoy when you did that and it gave you something to tether you to this plane of existence.

“You’re doing such a good job at taking my cock.” He moaned and your eyes rolled back into your head again. Your jaw went slack when he adjusted you to be a bit higher and his dick slid against your g-spot. The noises you were emitting were uncontrollable now. Gasps, whimpers and moans all fell through with the occasional, “Oh Master..” thrown in.

“So pretty with my cock in you… Nobody knows you like I do… They never will.” He grunted as he began to thrust with more aggression and desperation than before. He wanted to feel every inch of you, every crevice and every ridge. Your brain mustered up the power to respond. “They never will… I only want you.. I always have.” Your words came out in between gasps. You let out another moan and squirmed when his fingers dig further into the soft skin on your hips.

His free hand moved one of your hands from his hair to your tits and he leaned back to watch you palm and pinch away at them. His eyes darkened and his teeth gnawed down on his lower lip as he watched. The sight itself was enough to make a man cum in his pants. He watched you play and squirm while you moaned his name and he began to fuck you faster. You almost screamed at the feeling, your voice echoed through the bathroom and you didn’t care at all.

You felt a familiar feeling build up in you and you pulled your other hand from his hair to rub your clit the same way he’d shown you. “Look at you.. Doing what I taught you.” He groaned as he continued his rampage on your pussy. The feeling of both your clit and hole being ravaged caused you to arch your back again and this time he hit a spot he hadn’t before. “Oh fuck.” You exclaimed as you rubbed away at your swollen set of nerve endings quicker, desperately trying to pull the orgasm out. He leaned in and began to kiss you with an open mouth, tongues fought and you could taste the sweat from his upper lip. You clenched around his cock as you let out another orgasm and your convulsing pussy sent him over the edge. His strokes got sloppy and his breath came out of his nose in short, repetitive bursts. He soaked your walls with his milk and you moaned at the feeling of your mixed liquids trickling down to your thigh as he slowed down again.

He let your legs fall and his hands moved to your waist as he slipped out of you and your feet hit the ground as a way of steadying you. Your vision was slightly blurred as you both attempted to catch your breath. His forehead leaned against yours and his hot breath hit your lips. He leaned in for another kiss and this one was gentle and sweet. You moaned softly into it. “So much better than I’d hoped.” He whispered into your mouth and a blush formed on your cheeks again. He handed your clothes to you and you put them on shakily. When you were both dressed he held you close to him, hands gripping your waist with a gentleness that hadn’t been there when he was fucking you.

“They won’t keep us apart again.” He said softly, staring into your eyes and you smiled. “Never.” You responded and placed another kiss on his lips. He smiled into it and brought you closer by the small of your back before pulling away. “They’re probably wondering where we went.” He chuckled and you smiled in response. He gave you one last kiss on your nose before unlocking the door and slipping out of the bathroom. You waited a few minutes, fixing your hair and now non-existent makeup before following his steps toward the dining hall.

The party had gone smoothly and you didn’t catch a break from the girls you were sitting with about being gone so long. You laughed and brushed them off. The three of you walked towards your own dormitories after taking showers and getting ready for bed. “Goodnight, ladies.” You spoke as you closed your door and got comfortable in your bed. You were giddy and your body felt electric as your mind ran through the memories of the night. It hadn’t been more than an hour before you heard your door open and your head turned towards the light creeping in. Anakin slipped in and shut your door behind him, a smirk graced his face as shock blanketed yours.

“Gods, I missed that pretty face.” He spoke as he approached you. You sat up and smiled up at him. It was going to be a long night.

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the-offside-rule · 6 months

Text

Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - Friends?

Requested: yes

Prompt: 18) "My mom thinks we're dating."

Warnings: not really? Just fluff tbh

Charles nervously led Y/n into his family's vacation home, where his parents and siblings eagerly awaited. "You stay here every year for the summer break and you never invited me?!" Y/n exclaimed, looking all around as Charles carried her suitcase in. "I thought you didn't like the whole glamour of Monaco." He teased. "That was before I saw your holiday home." She chuckled. Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and confusion, having been invited on this family vacation without much explanation. "We're all going to have dinner at around 8 so I will leave you to unpack. I have to go help my mum with the cooking."

"Can I come? I haven't seen your mum in ages!" Charles swallowed the lump in his throat, earning a concerned look from Y/n. "What did you do?" She interrogated. "What? Nothing! I've done nothing!" Charles replied in an attempt to defend himself. "So why are you suddenly being so....unlike yourself?" He shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe you've changed since she saw you last? I-"

"Y/n!" Charles stopped his talking as he heard his mother Pascale entering the room. Y/n's bright smile returned to her face as she spotted the wonderous woman walking towards her with open arms. "Oh, I've been waiting for Charles to bring you! I haven't seen you in a while!" She grinned, kissing Y/n's cheeks. "It's good to be here. I can't believe I haven't been invited sooner." Y/n and Pascale both looked over to Charles who stood by the suitcase. "Charles, it's wonderful that you brought Y/n along." She paused, looking to Charles and switching to French. "Est-ce qu'elle sait que je sais?" Charles shook his head. "Non, maman. Elle veut toujours que cela reste privé pour le moment."

"Eh bien, privé ne veut pas dire secret." Y/n looked between the pair, slightly confused as she didn't speak the language. "Mamon, s'il vous plaît-" He began, but Pscale began to walk away, waving her hands in the air. "Non, non, Charles. Je vais partir et aller cuisiner. Je m'occuperai de mes affaires et je te laisserai aider ta copine à s'installer." She turned back to Y/n. "Bisous!" She smiled, before closing the door. Charles let out a sigh of relief. "What was that about?" Y/n asked. "Just dinner. I will- Yes. I'll let you change for dinner and I'll see you at 8."

As the Leclerc family gathered around the dinner table, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and laughter. Charles Leclerc sat beside his friend Y/n, stealing glances and sharing smiles throughout the meal. Pascale, Charles' mother, couldn't help but notice the chemistry between the two. During the delicious main course, Pascale set her fork down and looked at Y/n with a twinkle in her eye. "Y/n, dear, Charles will not stop talking about you." Charles sighs as Y/n grins, highly amused. "Oh really? Isn't he just so sweet?" She teased.

"And Charles, how long did you say you two have been together?" Pascale asked, her eyes twinkling again with curiosity. Y/n's gentle expression had turned into knotted brows, confusion clouding her mind. She stole a glance at Charles, who offered her a reassuring smile before answering. "Oh, we've been together for a while now." Charles replied smoothly, his tone tinged with amusement, before reaching for Y/n's hand beside him. Y/n's mind raced as she tried to make sense of Charles' response. She had never considered him anything more than a friend, and now she found herself unwittingly caught in a web of deception.

"So, Y/n, what made you and Charles decide to start dating all of a sudden?" Pascale inquired with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Y/n nearly choked on her wine, as Charles masked a laugh. "Oh, you know Pascale, sometimes these things just happen." Y/n replied, trying to play along. Pascale's eyes sparkled as she nodded knowingly. Charles nodde too, playing along with the story Y/n had come up with. "That's wonderful! I'm so happy to hear that. I am so happy none of the journalists have found out yet. You two must be discreet." Y/n chuckled nervously, "Yes, we like to keep things private. At one stage, we were so secretive, I didn't even know we were together." The family laughed along as Y/n kicked Charles under the table. A silent wince left his lips.

"Well, I think I should go and clean these dishes. How about-"

"Charles and I will do them, Pascale. Honest." Pascale smiled approvingly of Y/n. "If you insist." Y/n nodded, grabbing Charles quite firmly to make him follow her to the kitchen with various plates. Once the door had closed, Y/n turned to Charles, frustration evident in her eyes. "What on earth was that, Charles?" Charles placed the plates into the sink. "Oh by the way, Y/n. My mum thinks we are dating." His poor attempt of a joke didn't land too well, but the tea towel Y/n had thrown at him did. Charles sighed, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Look, I didn't know how to explain why you're suddenly here, so I may have mentioned we're together." He explained. "What the hell, Charles? You didn't tell me about this plan! I thought we were just friends!" Y/n whispered, trying not to let their ruse be overheard.

Charles had stopped thinking of the plates now and had instead turned his focus to trying to stop Y/n from telling Pascale the truth. "I know, I know. My mom can be relentless with her questions about my love life. I didn't want her prying too much, so I improvised. Sorry about that." Y/n sighed, holding the bridge of her nose. "Well, it's a bit late now. We need to figure this out before it gets more complicated."

Charles nodded, engulfing her in a hug and resting his chin on top of her head. "Agreed." They pondered for a moment, before Charles came up with a plan. "How about we make a deal?" Y/n looked up to him, almost as if to tell him to continue. "We'll keep up the charade for a while, and I promise to come clean with my mom when the time is right. In the meantime, we can use this to our advantage somehow." Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Alright, but you owe me big time for this. What's the plan?"

Charles smirked. "We can use this 'relationship' to our advantage. You get to spend the summer here, and it'll keep my mom off my back for a while. Deal?" Y/n sighed again, running her hands through her hair. "Fine, deal. But this better not turn into a soap opera. We're just friends, got it?" Charles chuckled, reaching his hand out and shaking hers. "Got it. Just friends."

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xhoneywheatx · 10 months

Text

Family

Warnings: None Category: Fluff Summary: How I'd imagine a surprise visit from you and your daughter to Levi would go.

"Oh my gosh!" Hange excitedly cheered your name upon seeing you in the mess hall with your adorable 8-month-old daughter sleeping soundly on your chest in her harness. With a hand securely on your child's back, you waved at her with your other hand after placing your soup spoon in it's bowl.

Hange scurried across the room and gave you her best side hug so as to not disturb the tiny human on your chest. "It's so good to see you here! How've you been?" She bombarded you with questions causing you to giggle behind your hand. You knew why she was so excited. It was your first time being here in the HQ building. You usually opted to stay home and tend to your cute little house with your husband in the Canaleth district with your growing child. You had been a part of the Survey Corps around two years ago, when you first found out about your pregnancy, and took the necessary precaution to hang up your Wings of Freedom for the time being.

You helped out as much as you could, administratively, but when the morning sickness started bedridding you, Levi, as nicely as possible, ordered you to stay home. Since then, you really haven't been around much, only being in around the town you live it to keep your pregnancy as stress free as possible. Your husband was not one to argue with you either.

"I'm fine Hange. So is the little one too!" You looked down at your precious daughter and began to feel her moving around in her harness at the sound of her name. "Oh! She's waking up!" Hange exclaimed slightly lowering herself to look at your baby. She opened her big beautiful eyes and stared into Hange's. "Oh, you got so big KK!" Hange's smile caused your daughter to lightly giggle despite being woken up.

"Does he know you're here?" Hange asked meticulously fixing your daughter's sock that was halfway off her tiny little foot. "He doesn't. Thought I'd bring the baby here to surprise him. He's been so stressed and upset from not seeing us lately." You spoke brushing your child's dark curls out of her face.

"That explains why he's been more grumpy." You and Hange giggled at the little insult. While you two were off in your own world, the doors to the mess hall opened and in came the cadets. Chatter began to build up as they all lined up to get their plates to get the much needed grub after sparring in the heat for the last two hours.

You were so caught up in your conversation with Hange and your baby occasionally babbling as if she were in the conversation that you didn't notice three new faces sitting carefully sitting in front of you with curious eyes. It wasn't until you noticed your baby, now sitting with her back on your tummy, out of her harness, wasn't paying attention to you anymore. You looked down to follow her gaze and was met with piercing green, dark, and blue eyes.

"Oh, hello." You spoke with a smile on your face. The boy with the blue eyes and blonde hair adverted his eyes from your face with a pink blush on his cheeks.

Cute, you thought.

"Hey guys!" Hange greeted.

"S-section Commander Hange.." The boy with the green eyes and brown hair stuttered his greeting. They barely noticed her beside you munching on her own food that's gone a bit cold from how long it's been there. "Eren, Mikasa, Armin." Hange addressed each of the kids before getting up to dispose of her plate, telling you she'd be back in a jiffy.

"W-who are you? I-I've never seen you around here..." The blue eyed boy, you now knew as Armin, asked timidly. After studying their faces a bit more, you realized that they couldn't have been over 15 years old. Such a young age to join- the Survey Corps at that. The thought made your heart tighten a little. You slightly wondered what could have caused these kids to join at such a young age.

However, your thoughts were cut short when... "Yeah! Are you a cadet like us?" The boy with the bright green eyes, now Eren, asked rather excitedly.

"Eren." The girl, Mikasa, warned.

So, she's the protective type, you gauged.

With a smile on your face, you happily spoke up while letting your daughter nibble on her teething ring making the cutest noises in your arms. You felt a little drool on your hand that held her in place, but you ignored it. "I am- well, used to be, Squad Leader Adachihara-"

"Used to be? You were in the scouts?" Eren cut you off.

"Eren," Mikasa started. "It's rude to cut people off." She chastised. The boy went on to defend himself, explaining to her that he's just curious when you chimed back in to diffuse the little disagreement. "It's okay," You held your hand up before continuing. "I got pregnant with my daughter about two years ago. Pregnant soldiers aren't allowed to be in the ranks as a soldier let alone a Squad Leader." You explained.

Naturally, your eyes drifted to Mikasa and you saw a ghost of a blush color her face.

At the mention of your child, the three of them looked down at her, who was lost in her own world wiggling and giggling in your arms, occasionally waving her teething ring around. You noticed Armin's gaze lingered on her for a bit longer than the others, almost as if he were studying her. A few compliments later and you five were engaging in a rather informative conversation for the cadets. You answered as many questions as you could so as to not scare them but prepare them for the world beyond the walls. Hange even threw in a 15-minute spiel about how fascinating titans were before leaving to grab a cup of coffee.

"If you don't mind me asking miss," Armin started. You gave him your name which caused another bloom of pink to dust his cheeks after correcting himself. "... um, where are you from?" You knew the question would come up sooner or later. "Well, long story short, my family has always been here on Paradis. My clan just resides in the Canaleth district. We all have darker skin a curly hair like mine. If you've never been to the district, you'll probably live your entire life without knowing we exist." Your smile grew a bit wider once you read his question a bit deeper. "If you're asking why I look different from you three, I'm not sure, but that doesn't make me any different." You raised your eyebrows at him as he panicked telling you that's not at all what he meant.

During his apology that honestly made you giggle, Hange returned and sat back down with a wide grin on her face.

"Sorry it took so long. I just ran into your husband and Erwin."

You looked down at your daughter who was already peering up at you. "You hear that baby, Daddy's here." You grinned. "Da!" She exclaimed before turning her little head around to search for him. Her excitement warmed your heart. She was definitely a daddy's girl.

"You're married to someone here?" Eren asked, shocked at the new information presented to him. You nodded at him. "Did you know that Section Commander?" Armin asked after Eren. Hange nodded before reaching her hands out to your baby. She began grabbing the air at Hange and leaned over to her saying, "Mmmm! Mmmm!" telling you to let her go. You gave her up and watched as she immediately began playing in Hange's wild hair.

"Who is it?"

Hange looked over at you and winked, causing you to blush. "You'd never guess!" She exclaimed. Eren looked between Mikasa and Armin before looking back at you. "Is it the Commander?" Mikasa asked. He seemed to be a family man. It was the most logical answer to her. At the mention of his name, your nose turned up in disgust.

"Uh-uh." You shook your head before taking a drink of water from your glass. "Erwin is like my brother." You spoke freely, choosing not to address him as the commander. You never did anyway so why start now?

"Is it the weird guy that smells everything?" Eren asked earning a glare from Mikasa at his careless words to describe a higher up. "Mike?" You made a face before shaking your head again. You looked towards Armin who had his gaze set on your daughter again. "Your daughter looks very familiar. She almost looks like Cap-"

"What are you three doing?" A familiar voice spoke from behind your left shoulder causing you to look over along with your daughter and Hange. Immediately, your daughter began bouncing up and down from excitement and grabbed at the air for him.

"Da! Da!"

"Captain Levi is your husband?!" Eren exclaimed causing a bit of attention to land on your table.

"And what of it Jeager? Got a problem?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at the young boy. "Da! Da!" Your daughter was now trying to lean over Hange's shoulder, who was laughing at their shocked expressions as Levi gently scooped him daughter up in his arms and settled her on his hip as she tried her best to wrap her tiny arms around his neck in a hug.

You saw the faint curve of his lips upward at the gesture and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"N-No sir!" Eren exclaimed, scrambling to his feet to give him a salute.

"Get outta here brat. You've pestered my wife and child enough."

You giggled at his brashness. It reminded you of how things were before you took maternity leave. Levi hasn't changed much since you left. Well, at work. At home, he was completely different. Clingy, soft, and most importantly, a little happier.

Eren scurried off with Armin leaving Mikasa to fight back an eye roll at their skittishness. She gathered their forgotten plates and slightly bowed to the table before leaving your little group alone.

"I'll go find them." Hange offered before taking her cup of half-finished coffee with her leaving you and Levi.

"Da!"

And Kuchel.

"What are you doing here?" He asked hearing his voice soften tremendously. No matter where you two were, sparring, in a meeting, or even slicing through 15 meter titans, Levi always seemed to talk to you in a softer tone, expressing his admiration for you this way. You noticed his eyes would soften upon speaking to his squad, Hange, and Erwin, but the look never reached his tone.

It was his way of telling you that you were special to him. The only other person he did this for was Kuchel- who was stuffing Levi's cravat in her tiny little fist trying to put it in her mouth. The action made you laugh a little while trying to contain your blush from his undivided attention. His eyes haven't left you since he sat down, only when pulling something inedible from your daughter's stubby hands knowing she'd put it in her mouth.

"You haven't been home lately," You attempted to hold his loving gaze noticing him taking in your appearance. His beautiful grey eyes scanned your pretty face noticing the little details such as you filling out your eyebrows some, a different lip gloss that had hints of glitter, and the fact that you actually used the mascara you purchased a few weeks ago.

"...so I..." you lost your train of thought getting lost in his eyes. Your heartrate sped up slightly and your breathing became slightly irregular. You were sure the cherry blush on your face darkened to crimson the longer you held his gaze. Unable to withstand the pressure, you adverted your eyes and took a quick deep breath, telling yourself to calm down.

How he still had this effect on you four years later was beyond you.

"Cat got your tongue sweetheart?" He teased, lowering his voice to keep your conversation private considering the number of unwanted eyes on you two following Eren's outburst.

"Levi." You whined, feeling your temperature spiking at the intimate name. He laughed, making it sound more like a scoff to go unnoticed by the cadets and an eavesdropping Hange.

"Ma! Ma! Mmmm! Mmmm!" Kuchel began to whine and wriggle in Levi's arms making grabby hands at you, well... your boobs. She was hungry. Levi immediately noticed this and ushered his little family into his private quarters on the fourth floor and helped you get comfortable before going to find Erwin. After taking much longer than he wanted, he finally found the blonde tucked away in the library nose deep in a history book. From there, he told the commander of the surprise visit where Erwin smiled a genuine smile for the first time in a long time. Not having a family of his own yet, he was happy for Levi and granted him the rest of the day off to catch up on the much-needed family time.

Levi graciously accepted and went back to his quarters to tell you the good news. Upon arriving back and opening the door, he realized just how long he had been gone. You were laying on you side with your breasts exposed so your daughter could eat comfortably, but upon further investigation, he realized that you two fell asleep like that.

With a small smile on his face, Levi locked the door and pulled out a change of clothes and headed into the bathroom to change. Upon putting his uniform in the dirty clothes hamper, he exited the bathroom and placed a pillow on the other side of your daughter, on the edge of the bed, in case she got a little wild during her nap. He then carefully crawled on the bed behind you, pulling your shirt and sports bra down in the process.

He gently pulled you into his chest, leaving a little space between you and Kuchel to give her some space, and buried his nose in your pineapple bun, enjoying the scent of coconut oil and your peppermint shampoo. Levi didn't nap with you two, but instead chose to enjoy the little intimate moment in the quiet.

It was in this moment that Levi forgot what lied on the outside walls. All that went through his head in this moment was how lucky he was to have the God above bless him with the two most important women in his life. It made him all the more excited to give you more children, to live with you for the rest of his life. He was genuinely happy.

#levi x black reader #levi attack on titan #levi aot #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot x reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #snk levi #snk x reader #hange zoe #erwin smith

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huellitaa · 7 months

Text

🤍𓂃 ࣪˖ if you can read this, it means you're still here! which is an achievement in itself. im so proud of you. <3

i have been falling back into some bad habits recently, and thinking about it a lot. i had a really, really bad night last night and this morning i woke up with puffy eyes and a messy room but i felt light.

imagine yourself in december this year. imagine yourself looking back on today and smiling at how far you've come. everything can change in one year. everything can change at any time.

there is a whole entire world for you. the sound of rain on the glass, the way the petals fall in the spring, the way the sun rises in the morning, that stranger that smiled at you on the street, that cute little dog you saw on your way to work or school or wherever you went to this morning.

there are people you haven't even met who are cheering you on. you have so many people admiring you from the sidelines because they're too shy to say it. i have been one of those people and still am. there are people who admire the tiniest things about you; the creases by your eyes when you smile, the cute little dimples on your cheeks, the way your hair gets so messy after being out in the wind, the way you hold yourself with such confidence, the way you try so hard to be better every day even if it's hard.

there are people who love you beyond belief that you've never even met yet. because there is so much to be explored, so much to be learnt, so much to see and so much to meet. 8 billion people. 8 billion. even if it feels like you're surrounded by people who don't love you, who don't want the best for you, who don't take care of you and admire you half as much as they should, they are not the last people in the world, and they never will be. there are 8 billion people! think about that for a second! there is someone who is wishing for you the way you are wishing for them! there are people who have so much love for you they haven't even had the chance yet to express!! that's so beautiful!!! <3

there are people who do love you beyond belief, even if you guys don't talk anymore. there are people who smile when they look back on you guys time together, from your childhood best friend to that girl you complimented in the street years and years and years ago. there are people who look back on your memory fondly and still love you and are so happy to see you flourishing.

its okay to be sensitive, its okay to get upset by things. not everything is going to be okay all the time, and neither are you. you can't have good without the bad, and the good always comes afterwards better than you'd ever imagined. life is feeling everything deeply and learning from it, no matter how hard it was or still is. you can always make it through because the most sensitive people are the strongest people.

there is so much life left. you are so young, no matter how old you are. there is so much you can do, so much you will do, so many achievements to be made, so many friends to meet, so many experiences you can learn from. you will get your happily ever after and you will make something beautiful out of your life because life is messy and imperfect and constantly growing and that is beauty.

please keep living, because there is so much to live for. even if you want to go back to that home of sadness you've built over the years, even if growth is messy and uncomfortable, even if things aren't going too great right now, even if it's not everything you thought it would be, you've survived your entire life with you helping you through it even if you've been alone.

you've picked yourself back up every. single. time. and are still making an active effort. that is extremely strong and you've done more than 90% of other people would do in your position and all the things you've been through. you've tried so hard and you should be so proud of yourself. and you should keep going for, because the life you're dreaming of is so close. please smile. please never give up. there is so much left to live for. i love you & you should do the same.

#girlblogging #girly tumblr #wonyoungism #self improvement #self concept #self image #mental health #mental illness #recovery #pink pilates princess #it girl #self care #lifestyle #dream girl #dream life #advice

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ineffable-suffering · 11 months

Text

The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie

Otherwise known as (*takes a deep breath*): A completely inflated close-up look at various dialogues and events of Season 2 that prove that the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Meeting Cotillion Ball was supposed to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley

Look, the point's been made before but that's never kept me from making it myself again, still. In fact, even I made it before, at the end of one of my other metas. But I feel like it's absolutely worthy enough to get its own soppy, way-too-long post. And I do love it so very much to write ridiculously long essays on something that could easily be condensed into a short paragraph.

So, here we go! Snuggle up, get cozy, settle in and, most importantly:

(Word count: 3.177 | Reading time: ~13 minutes)

As I already said above, I laid out a similar case in my meta about why Aziraphale is somewhat of an unreliable narrator. I'll try and recycle it here briefly, so I can further make my point.

When Aziraphale arrives back in London from his Edinburgh journey, he seems oddly happy and giddy for the fact that he just had a rather odd and threatening encounter with Shax. I explain in my other meta that this is because he just spent the last hours of his drive reminiscing on the thrilling and romantic magic show adventure of 1941 and also the fact that he just found out that Crowley has been replaced by Shax and no longer works for Hell.

Ergo: We have a hopelessly lovesick Principality at our hands, who's practically swooning over his serpent who saved him, his books and his magic show all those years ago.

Ergo:

✨This✨

Realistically, Aziraphale should probably be a tad worried about the eery encounter with Shax, in which she definitely had the upper hand on him. But well, if you spend many-a hours driving across the serene countryside (Edinburgh is about an 8-hour drive from London), pondering on one of the craziest, sticky-sweet romantic adventures of your not-life life, well ... things tend to turn a little rosy around the edges. Head in the clouds and all that. Light shades of grey!

Alright, onwards: Once the angel, filled to the very brim with fond memories and butterflies, gets out of the Bentley, he's kindly met with a face full of verdant plants and a very in-character-grumpy Crowley.

Fhwack! Way to burst the rosy bubble.

Seriously, the absolute lightning speed with which Crowley storms out to vacate the bookshop the very second Aziraphale arrives makes me giggle every time.

Let's make a first small (who am I kidding) diversion into analysing the following conversation in unnecessary detail ...

... simply because I enjoy quoting dialogue as an accurate reference in my metas. I'll also highlight certain passages I want to comment on in individual colours so I can back up my thoughts with them below. Alright, their little chinwag goes as follows:

Crowley: "They you are! I was worried something might have happened to you." Aziraphale: "No, nothing happened to me. Very uneventful journey indeed. No strange things at all." Crowley: "Good. That's what we wanna hear." Aziraphale: "Um .. everything okay with- ah.." *nods to the bookshop* Crowley: "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must have been asleep. I heard snoring coming from his bedroom–" Crowley, to the Bentley: "Did you miss me? I bet you did." Aziraphale: "... I'm sure it did." Crowley: "So, any more clues from the mystery of the missing archangel?" Aziraphale: "Not exactly. Or, if there are, I haven't yet cracked the case. But I'm certainly hot on the trail of something." Crowley: "I'm sure you are. Oh, by the way, the whole sudden rain and awning thing was a complete washout." Aziraphale: "Sorry?" Crowley: "You know, project making Nina fall in love with Maggie. I failed, it's your go." Aziraphale: "I see. Well then, Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Monthly Meeting, here we come!" Crowley: "You're really hosting the meeting?" Aziraphale: "Absolutely! And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

At first glance, this has little to do with the plot of this meta but actually, it folds into my point very nicely! However, it's not time for that yet, so we'll just state the facts as they are for now and then bring them back 'round later when we need them. That being said: For the love of Someone, will these two ever manage to simply tell each other the truth of what happened instead of thinking they can protect each other by lying about it all the time? Hrmpf. As a big fan of open communication myself, I'm close to developing a stomach ulcer with the amount of false truths being spewed here. (Then again – and yes, that is another, way larger meta I'm currently cooking up – it plays so very perfectly into the whole Jane-Austen-Pride-and-Prejudice tragic miscommunication theme that this entire Season has, so I understand the point of it.)

Very uneventful journey indeed, Aziraphale, except for the fact that you were ambushed by a demon who told you she was Crowley's successor, knows about the rumors of the two of you being an item as well as what went down in 1941 (that almost had both of you exposed) and also seems to have figured out where you and your demon boyfriend are hiding Gabriel, all in the span of about a minute. No strange things at all, nooo!

And Crowley's "Oh yeah, fine" is a total lie too. Again, we see him make an absolute run for it before Aziraphale can even enter the bookshop. After all, he just once again witnessed Jim have a Gabriel-flashback, speaking of the Second Coming, while Crowley was alone with him. As fumingly angry he is with the amnesiac archangel – he's also absolutely terrified of what might happen (to him and Aziraphale) should Jim regain his memories. So, no wonder he's quick to vacate the premises after witnessing Jim's rather eery memory flashback (and was, just like Aziraphale, threatened by Shax mere moments later, lol).

But no, nothing out of the ordinary happened to either of them. Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo.

Alright, let's get back on track with the actual topic of this meta. Certainly hot on the trail of something, hm? At first glance, it might seem like Aziraphale is talking about the fact that Gabriel was in company of someone whenever he went to the Resurrectionist Pub. (The clue!) However, I don't actually think he is talking about that. Why? Because, and this slipped my mind too at first, he never actually follows any of this information up, does he? Yes, sure, he went to Edinburgh, found the capital-c Clue and then returned to London. But what does he do with it? Nothing. He doesn't keep investigating this hot trail because that's not the important thing he realized during his journey. No, the more important clue Aziraphale found during his trip, is that Crowley no longer works for Hell and that he is also very much irrevocably in love with him and must confess this at the earliest given chance. (The latter part isn't necessarily a new discovery for Aziraphale, but it surely is fuelled by the fact that he just realized Crowley's out of a Hellish job and simply hasn't told him yet.)

This exchange just the perfect indicator for the fact that Aziraphale, at no point during his drive back, was thinking about the Maggie and Nina mission. He has no idea what Crowley is talking about once he mentions it and seems surprised, even, that he would. Even though they just talked about it on the phone when Aziraphale was still at the graveyard. Which is another important piece of evidence because it means that the last status update Aziraphale got of Mission Lovebirds, was that Crowley had sensed an opportunity to make them fall in love – and had then hung up on him. Why is this important? Because it means that until that very point of their conversation, Aziraphale did not know that Crowley's attempt had failed! There would have been just as much of a chance of Crowley's weather miracle actually working out and Maggie and Nina already having skipped into the sunset happily ever after.

So, riddle me this:

Why would Aziraphale spend the entire ride back from Edinburgh plotting "a night to remember" (because clearly, he already had the entire Ball planned out down to a T in his head since he goes into action right away after arriving) if he didn't even know yet that Crowley's attempt had failed?

To be very clear here: We're not talking about Aziraphale driving on the M1 to London, having a silly little idea for putting on some good music, miracle-ing Nina and Maggie to dance to it and watch them confess their love–

No.

He planned an entire actual Cotillion Ball with very particular location design that involves re-arranging the entire bookshop, specifically designed individual outfits for (almost) every single attendee, topped off with a live band, hors-d'œuvre, drinks and an actual choreographed group dance.

During one car ride.

Where's the party planner Aziraphale AU? I'm waiting!

Now, sure, we know that it's still quite important for Aziraphale to convince Heaven of the faux-reason they gave for their accidental ✨25-Lazarii miracle✨. But if we're all honest, this all seems to be a tad much just to make two random humans fall in love, even for that.

Glittery ball gowns and suits? Red and gold wall curtains? A modified language filter? Bloody vol-au-vents?

Talk about over the top ...

Once we start S2E5, Crowley is still surprised at the mere fact that Aziraphale is actually planning to organize the Monthly Meeting – and he doesn't even know yet that it's gonna be the most extravagant ball-boogaloo that the Whickber Street Community has ever seen! Aziraphale wanting to organize the meeting alone, is enough to render Crowley incredulous, because Aziraphale never mingles with the other shopkeepers. He usually actively avoids them and any sort of social encounters as much as he can because he doesn't care about the bloody Christmas lights, alright?

These things seem mundane and uninteresting to him, obviously, since all he really cares about is hoarding his book collection in peace like the little hedonist he is and drawing as little attention as possible to his none-business business.

Oh, right, speaking of books:

Let's take another unnecessarily detailed look at the whole Whickber Street invitation scene:

Aziraphale realizes very quickly that he's not the only one who's quite unenthusiastic about the blessed Chritsmas lights. And despite his very persuasive methods of temptation ...

... he has to take some more drastic measurements. And those are?

That's right: Giving away his books.

I'll repeat it again, slowly: Aziraphale is willingly (!) giving away or lending his books to pretty much complete strangers to, allegedly, make two other humans strangers fall in love.

Seriously, who is that angel and what has he done with our prim, fussy, hedonistic Aziraphale that protects his books with the vice grip of an eagle carrying his precious prey?

Believe in the importance of Mission Lovebirds as much as you will, but we're talking about Mr. A.Z. Fell here who, over the past millennia, has pretty much spent every day actively working out methods to stop people from purchasing as much as a single paperback from his holy shelves.

And yet: the 1965 September Dr. Who Annual? Given away. The first edition of Expert at the Card Table that was S. W. Erdnase's personal copy? Lent away to grubby human hands to fondle around with.

Let's do another coloured dialogue diversion (don't worry, it's not as extensive as the last one):

Crowley: "You just did what I think you did?" Aziraphale: "I'm not prepared to talk about it." Crowley: "You gave away a book." Aziraphale: "I had to! Maggie and Nina are depending on me. They just don't know it yet."

Crowley backs up my point: This is a huge deal. Aziraphale does not sell his books – let alone give them away for free. We're all shocked! Flabbergasted!

And the explanation Crowley and us get just ... doesn't satisfy. Something and someone sure is depending on this Ball and doesn't know it yet. But it's most definitely not Maggie and Nina, folks.

You know for whom Aziraphale would give away his books in the blink of an eye, though?

Mhm, that's right.

This pretty old serpent.

I want to take a minute to show you the reaction again that Aziraphale has upon entering the very same magic shop him and Crowley went to in 1941 to acquire the Bullet Catch:

You ... you need a minute there, angel? You're sure looking a little ... affected.

And I mean, well, no wonder. He reminisced about that very memory four hours last night. To him, this shop is where the most turbulent, ecstatic, adrenaline-fuelled and romantic night of his life began. And it shows.

I've made my point in my other meta series about how Aziraphale is an incredibly nostalgic character. He romanticizes so many things in his memories – especially the parts that feature Crowley. So, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's once again willing to loosen the tight grip he has on his book collection to get the successor of Will Goldstone's Magic Shop, the shop that started it all for him, to come to his fancy Ball.

As we watch Aziraphale and his little lap dog demon pat around Soho, I'd like to take another second to point out that he goes to seven or more establishments before he even invites Nina.

... and he only does so because she starts talking to them on the street. Almost like he'd forgotten about it. Why not ask her at the very beginning? To establish whether or not he'd have to book-blackmail her too?

"Perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind", except that he's using you and Maggie as a pretence to resolve his own clusterfuck of a relationship-miscommunication Jane-Austen-style so that he can then hopefully confess his undying love to his demon not-boyfriend boyfriend.

Marvellous!

You'll forgive me another short diversion but my God, the whole exchange at the Marguerite's restaurant with Crowley literally cat-call-whistling Aziraphale over to him (and Aziraphale checking if he meant someone else first, I–)? I am weak. So, so weak and

However, this is also when we get a snippet of Crowley finally revealing the truth in place of his "Oh, he's fine"-lie earlier and telling Aziraphale that he's actually pretty scared Jim might turn back into Gabriel and smite him altogether. And Aziraphale's response is, in a cosmic sense, (remember the pink paragraph now) so hilarious:

"Have you thought of just talking to him?"

Yeah, have you? Have any of the two of you? Just thought about talking? To each other? About anything?

'pparently not. But hey, it's all good because remember what the ultimate remedy for star-crossed lovers simply misunderstanding each other is?

Bish, bash, bosh, problem solved!

Back at the ballroom bookshop, Aziraphale sends Crowley to invite Maggie in order to, in my opinion, not spoil the Ball-y surprise for him. (Inviting Maggie only now?! Wouldn't she be one of the only two guests who really should attend? Why the short notice? If she's really that important for the Ball you're planning, hm?)

On top of this, we see Nina almost not attending the Ball meeting after her partner broke up with her and Crowley being the one who coincidentally runs into her and ushers her into the bookshop before Shax and her "legion" of demons start creeping up on them. Again, if this hadn't happened by pure coincidence, Nina would have left to go home and this whole Ball would have taken place without her, rendering the apparent sole purpose of making her fall in love with Maggie useless.

Why doesn't Aziraphale care more for both of them to attend and be there? Why is he instead busy fussing over everything looking perfect and wonderful and doesn't even seem to notice that both Nina and Maggie are really late to the meeting?

Well. Well.

The answer's in the title, babes.

Alas, Crowley safely gets Maggie and Nina to join them, Mr. Brown is the only one who doesn't get a miracled outfit (fussy, petty angel, you just don't like him, do you?), Jimbriel stuns with glamour and flirt (and whatever sexually suggestive thing he does with his cheeks) and the Whickber Street Ball is a-go!

Sorry, I just had to chuck this in again because Crowley's face here absolutely kills me every time. He looks so confused, I am hollering.

And the heart eyes Aziraphale is making at Nina and Maggie now that they're actually here?

Oh, bless it, angel.

He's all like "Oh look, it's working! Jane was right! It's all going to be resolved, all the misunderstanding and quarrels! Crowley, where's Crowley–"

Ah yes, there he is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is an angel who is not listening to a single word being said right now. No, in his head, Aziraphale is already down on one knee, pouring his heart out to Crowley after they just danced the night away.

Oh, yes, right. The dancing.

Parallel much?

But well, as marvellous and beautifully romantic as her stories tend to be, it turns out that Jane Austen isn't always right after all. Because before we know it, the perfect night shatters into many-a tiny pieces (literally).

And once again, fhwack:

... the rosy bubble bursts.

Let's take one more deep breath so I can make my final point:

In S2E2, Aziraphale explains to us very exactly what Jane's Balls (hrhr) used to be about: Solving miscommunication and confessing love to one another.

During his car journey back from Edinburgh, Aziraphale:

doesn't know Crowley's Mission Lovebirds had failed

remembers 1941 and just how badly he's in love with Crowley

and also realizes that they seem to have been wildly miscommunicating for quite some time now. (Crowley didn't even tell him he basically got let go!)

So, what does maddeningly strong love plus a want to resolve all the miscommunication equal? That's right: A night to remember! A Ball to change it all! A dance, a vol-au-vent, a confession. And, ideally, a happy ever after. Because:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man angel in possession of a good fortune Jane Austen collection, must be in want of a wife demon husband.”

The Ball was never for Nina and Maggie. As a byproduct, maybe, yes. But the whole rest of the glimmer and glamour, the careful, romantic planning and set up of it all, the book-bating the other shopkeepers– that was for Crowley and Crowley only.

And oh, if only it were as easy as in the books.

*whispers* I'm sorry, I had to.

***

Your honour, the tinfoil-hat crackpot defence rests. Feel free to share thoughts (and prayers) if you want to!

Au revoir! 💗

#good omens season 2 #good omens #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #my own meta #the bloody vol-au-vents made me do it #aziraphale has balls #truly #jaune austen ball #it is a truth universally acknowledged that this show is going to drive me out of my mind #azi just wanted his silly little love confession #but then he had to surrender the angle #bummer

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azrakaban · 3 months

Text

Mattheo Riddle Headcanons Pt 2

A/N: This part is solely focused on how Mattheo would be with kids! My own interpretation, you may disagree, if you do oh well, too bad <3

Names mentioned, change if you want <3 (I picked relatively rare names to make it easier)

- Girls: Aella, Enya, Callie (2 & 1/2, 5, 8)

- Okay starting off strong, I'm a firm believer that this man is terrified of children. They're like small curious little balls and he's scared. Can't explain it. They're so easily harmable.

- But imagine you've been dating a year or so and he's chill with you, obviously children haven't come up, and you haven't engaged with any, besides the First Years, which are basically just small irritating puppies.

- But then you want him to meet your family. And he's great, happy to do that... then you mention your little sisters. Oh god.

- Trying not to cry honestly, he's scared for his life. Kids are so invasive.

- But he loves you so he'd go along with it, albeit nervously.

MATTHEO RIDDLE WITH YOUR SISTERS

- Okay so it's all fine, you turn up and your parents are greeting him, but then the kids spawn in out of nowhere.

- "Y/N! ENYA STOLE MY DOLL!" Your little sister Callie says, glaring at her twin.

- Imagine him immediately slightly tensing, before you laugh and help sort them out. (Turns out they have identical dolls, and got them confused.)

- They'll then turn to notice this weird, tall stranger who is clinging to their older sibling like bindweed.

- "Who are you?" Enya says suspiciously. Imagine him legitimately gulping and looking at you.

- "Enya, Callie, this is my boyfriend Mattheo. Say hi Mattheo."

- "Umm hi, Enya, Callie." He'd be so awkward, especially when he looks down and there's a small toddler clinging to his leg, little Aella. "And... a koala?"

- Callie giggles, triggering Aella to giggle, and then get the hiccups. Enya however, GLARING. "I'm not Enya. I'm Princess Enya." She emphasises, flicking her hair.

- He raises an eyebrow at you, then crouches down, careful not to dislodge Aella.

- "My most sincere apologies, Princess Enya. How can I make it up to you?" He looks up at you, checking he's doing the right thing.

- When you nod, he turns back as Enya delivers her sentence. "You must play knights and princesses with Callie. I am too tired. I will go and nap on the sofa. 14 steps is far too far to go to bed." (relatable)

- He's scared for a second, but follows Callie into the next room, her playroom.

- "So, am I the knight?" She gives him the DIRTIEST glare.

- "No silly, you're the Princess. You have long eyelashes." She says like it's obvious.

- Mattheo glances to the door, but you've abandoned him in favour of yapping with your parents.

- Imagine u come back later in the day and he's fully dressed up as a princess, with a tutu magically enlarged for him, and a plastic tiara. He's got kids eyeshadow on, and he's playing with your sister amazingly.

- His voice is all high for the princess, and Callie is having the time of her life.

- You obviously get a picture in because HELLO?

- never ever let that go 🙏

- imagine him having a conversation with Callie about you that one of your parents overhears.

- "Do you want to marry y/n?"

- "Umm, maybe. I want whatever y/n wants, I just want them to be happy, okay Callie? Can you keep that a secret?" He raises an eyebrow.

- Callie rolls her eyes. "Boring."

- then your girl goes back to playing with her toys because honestly he's not interesting if he's not being a princess.

- By the end of ur time at home he's chill with your siblings, and realises that kids aren't as scary as he thought.

- he's less scared of kids now to say the least <333

edits made by me - do u guys think I could make it as an editor 🤔 (joking i swear)

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherins #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin boys fluff #don't even ask #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #kids #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #Mattheo riddle headcanons

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honeekyuu · 2 months

Text

take the edge off. [suna rintarou x f!reader] chapter four.

>>You struggle with your weight and body image, but Suna extensively and thoroughly undoes all the damage done by other guys.

You haven't gotten laid in over a year, and your best friend takes it upon himself to fix that for you.<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist. || next.

a/n: some time apart only serves to solidify their obsession with each other,,,, featuring me falling a little bit in love with miya osamu

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

The fall into something more with Suna is easier than you’d thought it be.

The weekend before he leaves is spent exploring his every fantasy, the dam broken on his hesitation to show you what he’s imagined with you. You’re awoken on Saturday morning to his head buried between your thighs, and you spend the day in every state of undress imaginable, his apartment familiar in a way it had never been before. Sunday is spent much the same, his thoughts of that beach trip come to life and the things you’ve always wanted to try made eagerly into reality.

On Sunday night, you sit in his bed, freshly showered and sporting uncountably many hickies. Suna moves around his room packing for his trip, stopping every five minutes to join you in bed for ten. It easily stretches his 30-minute packing chore into a neat 3 hours, the time spent holding you in his lap and telling you how pretty you are while he kisses gentle comfort into the bruises he’d given you.

You fall asleep that night with his head on your chest, a sleepy admission mumbled into your shirt, so quiet that you think you maybe weren’t supposed to hear it.

“ ‘m gonna miss you. ”

–

He’s gone before you wake on Monday, but you find a note in his place, his handwriting slanted and rushed.

‘ Stay. You promised.’

You linger in his bed with that note pressed to your chest until there’s absolutely no way you’ll be on time for work.

He calls while you’re driving, and you feel a tingly excitement burst in your chest when his name flashes on your screen.

“Miss me already?” You say, leaving him on speakerphone in the middle console.

“ We both know the answer to that .”

You grin, your skin warm. “How was your flight?”

“ Got sat next to a mom and her baby. Baby was cute, mom was not. ”

You grimace, knowing that Suna’s external appearance is not a fan favorite among middle-aged mothers. “‘m sorry, Rin.”

“ It happens. ” He hums on the other end, and you hear the telltale sounds of airport announcements and people around him while he figures out where to go. After a moment, he seems to decide, because he comes back to you. “ You heading to work? ”

“Mhm,” You start. “Luckily, this cute guy lent me his car, so I’m living the good life this week.”

“ Oh, yeah? What’s he like? ”

“Oh, he’s really something. Ladies love him, moms hate him.”

“ Is that right? Does he know you’ve got a man? ”

“Something tells me he knows.” Your face is burning as you pull up to a parking spot in front of your shop. And then you hear a woman’s voice on the other end, and you’re lifting your brows as you put the car in park.

“ Excuse me. Are you from here, by chance?”

Suna hums in response. “ Does it look like I’m from here? I just got off a flight .”

You shake your head and laugh to yourself at his tone.

“ Oh, well, I’m not, either. Maybe we could be sightseeing buddies? ”

“ Sightseeing–Does that normally work for you? ” He laughs. “ Is that an actual line you use? ”

“ Oh, I just- ”

“ Look,” He cuts her short, and you hear the amused edge in his voice. “ My girlfriend’s on the other end of this call right now, and she will actually kill me and turn me into a mannequin if I don’t stop speaking to you in the next 12 seconds. Is that what you want for me? ”

Your jaw drops, and you’re laughing loudly, knowing he can hear it. The girl he’s with starts to stumble.

“ A manne-What? Your girl- ”

Suna keeps it up with ease. “ See, now it’s 8 seconds. When she gets to 5, she’s gonna start using forensic technology to track your voice back to your identity. It’s gonna get ugly. ”

“Suna!” You yell, laughing when the girl chokes and rushes off with a panicked ‘ Never mind ’.

He laughs back. “ That worked remarkably well. I think I just found a new tactic. ”

“I’m glad you found a new use for me.”

“ You’re very multi-purpose .”

“Suna Rintarou-”

“ Okay, okay! No need for the government name. ”

You’re about to respond, but there’s a harsh knock on the window. You scream, turning, and find Osamu on the other side. He raises an eyebrow while you roll the window down.

“You plannin’ on workin’ from in here today?”

You roll your eyes with a smile. “I get my best work done in Suna’s car, actually.”

Suna bites before you can even realize you’ve put out bait. “ Woah, babe! He doesn’t need to know all that. ”

Osamu’s face splits in a grin, his pained groan loud despite his obvious amusement. “It’s not even 9am.”

You just smile back. “Imagine dealing with this 24/7.”

“ Don’t make me embarrass you, Y/n. I have some very choice memories that would make Osamu’s hair curl-”

“No, thank you!” Osamu crosses his arms, backing away from the car. “I’m very happy in my sweet, vanilla relationship.”

“ There was this one time on my kitchen counter- ”

You and Osamu scream at the same time, and you slam a finger down on the End Call button before Suna can get too far.

You and the younger Miya stare at each other for a moment, and then you very awkwardly roll the window up and pull the key from the ignition. When you join Osamu on the sidewalk, all he does is give you a deadpan look.

“The kitchen counter is actually insane-”

“Please don’t,” You laugh, pushing past him toward the shop.

“Don’t you know how unsanitary that is-”

“Samu!” You shake your head, heading back into your office with an exasperated smile. Your phone buzzes while you’re greeting Haru at the bar.

[8:55 AM]

Sunarin : i didn’t get to tell him about the ice cubes :((

You : youre a menace and you need to be gagged

Sunarin : is that a request :))

You : did you know that distance does not in fact make the heart grow fonder?

Sunarin : really? im feeling pretty fond rn

The day passes with a funny little tingling in your veins, one that makes you think of him often and puts a stupid smile on your face, subject to Osamu’s constant teasing.

Suna texts you repeatedly throughout the day, and you’re reminded of the very first days of your friendship, when he would spam your phone with videos and memes and little else. Now, he sends you pictures of Tokyo – tourist spots and food and trinkets from the street stalls, attached to messages that make that excited tingle in your chest sing.

‘ Come back here with me.’

‘This place has spicy food the way you like it.’

‘This little old lady was making hair ties and stuff, so I got some.’

You scold him despite that wonderful little feeling, telling him he’s only going to fill his suitcase with things you don’t need. He ignores it, sending you more pictures of things he’s buying you.

You call him when you’re leaving work, the cafe locked up and Osamu waving you off with a knowing grin while he turns in the direction of Yachi’s flower shop.

“ Great timing, ” Suna answers, surprising you. “ Green or blue ?”

“You did not just answer the phone while buying me something,” You say, exasperated.

“ You’re so right, babe. You do look better in green. ” He ignores you, and you hear him putting something back.

“Suna!”

“ Stop complaining, or this is gonna be a long week. ”

“You would never buy me these things if we were just friends.” You say it without thinking, too busy getting into his car and settling in. You realize belatedly that you’re the first to really say it, to say it properly and truly and privately, even though it had been obvious to both of you from the start.

That you and Suna are more now.

Your heart stutters briefly, and you wonder why that had been so easy to say. Wonder what he’s going to say in response.

“No, maybe not,” He says, distracted by the store clerk while he pays. “But we’re not just friends, are we?”

Your skin warms under the coo of his voice in your ear – under his mutual acknowledgement, just as easy. “No, I don’t suppose we are.”

“ I don’t suppose we are, either-Thanks- ” He shifts his phone, and you hear the jingle of a shop door. “So I get to do what I want now. ”

“And what would that be, Rin?” You make your way home, his seat and mirrors and steering wheel all shifted in ways that’ll drive him crazy later. You smile at the thought of these minor, domestic traces of you, left all over his life.

“ Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out. ”

You bite your lip, your fingers tapping against the steering wheel while you wait at a red light. “Good thing I don’t plan to go anywhere.”

There’s quiet on the other end, and then-

“ Good thing I planned on keeping you for a while.”

You drive in silence, your very soul aching to see him. After a few minutes, you make a quiet admission. “Gonna be a long week . ”

Suna breathes a soft laugh. “ I miss you, too. ”

You pull into his apartment and sigh as you put the car in park. “Made it home.”

His voice is teasing. “ Whose home, baby? ”

You warm, realizing what you’d said and deciding to simply stop talking. He clicks his teeth when you don’t respond, but he doesn’t push.

“ Whatcha gonna do now? ”

You stare down at your lap, your ears burning. “Cook dinner. Eat on the couch. Go to bed early.”

“ Without me? ”

You roll your eyes with a smile. “Goodbye, Rintarou.”

“ Send pictures! ”

You hang up, your heart still racing a little, even as you mumble to yourself. “Stupid man.”

You send him pictures anyway – your simple pasta dinner, the book you’re reading while you lounge on his couch. An overhead shot of you in his bed, showered and wrapped up in a bath robe and looking silly.

He sends back a voice note of him screaming incoherently about how pretty you are and then sends an overhead shot of himself in his hotel bed, equally showered and surrounded by no less than ten bags of gifts for you.

You scream incoherently, too, but into his pillow and without his knowledge.

You really, really like this stupid man of yours – more than you thought possible.

–

On Tuesday, you unexpectedly get a bit of good news.

The day starts as warmly as Monday had, with texts already pouring in before you even leave for work. Pictures of the convention venue, a massive room lined with artist booths and a stage in the back for the week of scheduled panels. An awkward selfie of Suna wearing his nametag, brightly colored and labeled ‘ Speaker ’ for everyone to see. Texts demanding to know your clothing sizes, with additional texts warning you against interrogating him for details.

By the time you walk into work, your mood is bright and sunny, and it only improves once you’re in the shop.

“Boss!” Haru’s eyes are bright when he calls for you, waving with both arms despite you being two feet away. Mayuri’s leaning against the bar, smiling fondly at Haru when he’s not looking, and Osamu’s watching from window into his kitchen.

You stop in the doorway, sending Haru a confused grin. “Haru?”

“I got a job!” He bounces behind the bar, doing a little jig.

You gasp, rushing to bar to join Mayuri. You know he’s been looking for full-time jobs with graduation so near, but you hadn’t been expecting one to come so soon. “What? Where? When?”

He giggles, and you wonder, not for the first time, how he’s only five years younger than you.

“Apparently, the Jackals need a social media manager.”

You stare, shocked, and drag your gaze over to Osamu. “The Jackals…. Since when do they-”

Osamu shakes his head. “What Haru means to say, is that he managed to convince Tsumu that they need one.”

You stare longer, remembering suddenly that Haru had applied to work with you three years ago not only because he was a broke college kid, but also because he’s a die-hard fan of the current MSBY lineup. He’s deceptively good at hiding it, but it seems the time for his cool exterior is gone.

“He-” You turn to Haru, watching the boy dance and turn and shake his butt in excitement. Mayuri just drops her head into her hand with a smile she’s clearly trying to hide.

You start to laugh, imagining just how easy it would have been for Haru to compliment-bomb Atsumu into agreeing to literally anything.

“Haru, I’m-” You burst into laughter, clutching your sides. “-so proud of you.”

“I start next week!” He yells at the ceiling. “Part-time and then full-time when I graduate!”

You shake your head, secretly glad he’ll keep working with you until graduation. “We’ve gotta celebrate, Haru. This is great.”

The boy becomes shy now, his dance slowing as he turns to you with warm cheeks. “Oh, we don’t have to-”

“No-” You cut him off with a shake of your head, rounding the bar to deposit your bag. “I was drowning in work before you came in – you literally saved my life. We need to celebrate.”

He flushes, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor while you compliment him. “Thanks, Boss. That’s super nice of you.”

Mayuri teases quietly, pulling him out of his shell. “Don’t get all shy on us now. We need at least one extrovert in the shop, or the whole thing’ll go under.”

Osamu cackles as he disappears into the kitchen, and you leave Mayuri with Haru and head to the back, laughing to yourself. You pull out your phone, smiling at the ten messages from Suna, all different items being sold at the convention.

[9:17 AM]

You : haru convinced tsumu that the jackals need a social media manager and now he has a job

Sunarin : thats

Sunarin : SO FUCKING FUNNY

Sunarin : im buying that man a drink

You : we’re gonna throw a party in the shop

Sunarin : good, i can be nosy and watch him and mayuri awkwardly flirt

You : right??? make a move, girl, we all know boys are dumb

Sunarin : excuse you?? i totally made the first move

You : when? when you were jerking off in college?

Sunarin : BRUTALLLLLL

You laugh loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls of your office, and put your phone down with a warm smile. But there’s a knock at your door, one that brings Osamu’s grey hair and a knowing gaze.

“What’s up?” You ask, smiling.

“I have something to propose which was not my idea but will give me answers to all of my questions.”

You narrow your eyes. “Okay?”

“Hitoka wants to go on a triple date.”

You stall, your face warming. Osamu starts to smile.

“So you are together.”

“What?” You laugh, your ears starting to ring now that the words have been said out loud in precisely that way. “We’re… Uh-”

He steps into your office, clearly excited as he sits across from you. “Yes or no?”

“I-” You scratch at your brow. “Yes? Maybe?”

“But it’s not just sex.”

“No…” You avoid his eyes. “It’s not just sex.”

“I don’t think it ever was,” He says, like he’s been waiting a long time to say it. “But you probably won’t agree with that.”

You say nothing, just remembering the way Suna had admitted that things were never as casual as he’d thought they were. That he’d never gotten over you, that he had tricked himself into thinking he was okay with a no-strings-attached arrangement with you.

That from the very beginning, you’d always secretly felt that starting something with Suna Rintarou would never be nothing .

Osamu watches you carefully when you don’t answer him. “Oh. It’s serious, then.”

You meet his eyes and look away, your heart starting to flutter and that nervous excitement making its daily appearance.

“Yeah,” You say, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s serious.”

He smiles slowly. “So… He would be okay with us setting up a date?”

You swallow, nodding and keeping your eyes away from that smug little grin.

“Yeah. He would be okay with it.”

Osamu leaves you after that, and you open your texts, typing with fingers that tremble just slightly.

[9:30 AM]

You : samu asked to set up a triple date with tsumu/sakusa

Sunarin : NOT A T S U M U

Sunarin : god theyre so insufferable and gross

Sunarin : how will i ever finish my food

You : im sure youll manage

Sunarin : you hate me, i just know it

Sunarin : wait

Sunarin : did you already agree to it???

You blink, confused by his urgency. Were you not supposed to?

You : …. maybe?

Sunarin : bro

Sunarin : our first date is NOT going to be with miya atsumu in the room

Oh. You hadn’t realized that you and Suna have never been on a date.

You : oh

You : its nbd

Sunarin : it very much is NOT nbd

Sunarin : im taking you out

You : i dont need dinner and a movie rin

Sunarin : i didnt say anything ab dinner and a movie

Sunarin : thats not special at all

Sunarin : thats just a tuesday

You shake your head, trying not to let his words warm you to the point of distraction. You put the phone down and fight the pounding in your ears, the cold tingle in your fingers subsiding the longer you focus on work.

You manage about two hours of it, your phone forgotten once your head’s in the right place.

Suna succeeds in ruining it in a matter of seconds.

[11:58 AM]

Sunarin : thoughts on getting each others initials tattooed for a first date?

You breathe out a shaky sigh, telling yourself he’s joking.

You : youre an idiot

Sunarin : yeah it’s a bit much

Sunarin : maybe for our ten yr anniversary

Sunarin : lets start smaller

You groan, dropping your head into your hands.

You : i think dinner and a movie is great

Sunarin : no no dont go back on me now babe

Sunarin : not when im so attached to the tattoo idea

You : i dont have tattoos

Sunarin : oh i know :)) i would have seen them by now :))

You : you continue to be an idiot

He ignores it, just sending back a photo. You stare down at it, your heart swelling in your chest when you see the cartoon art he’s scribbled haphazardly on a napkin, ink stains on his fingers and a ring of moisture still on the napkin from his drink.

It’s just a fox , you tell yourself. Just a small caricature of the Inarizaki fox, something you could easily get with all your friends.

But the fact that he’d chosen it now – now that things are not what they were at Inarizaki, now that things are more than they’ve ever been. It makes you question how you could possibly have gone this long without falling for him.

You swallow the feeling of permanence and give in to it, knowing there’s no way around it.

[12:02 PM]

You : i would allow you to draw that on my body for a first date

Sunarin : that was a love confession if ive ever seen one

Suna Rintarou is really starting to affect your productivity.

–

It’s on Wednesday night that things get serious.

The jokes, the passing comments, the unspoken meanings – they all fall away, leaving only Suna’s quiet voice, laced with a hesitation that makes you nervous.

“ I’ve been telling people I have a girlfriend.”

You forget how to breathe.

You’d been lying in his bed listening to him tell you about his day, flirty comments shared between you. In the lull between topics, he’d admitted that.

You sit there in silence, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t – the air conditioner in his hotel room loud between you – you clear your throat.

“That good of a deflection tactic, huh?”

Relief floods you when he laughs under his breath, but you still feel tense, unable to move from where you’re curled up under his blankets. They smell like him, and there’s a part of you that feels you can only handle this silence because of that comfort.

“ A couple of younger girls came up to me at a booth and said they saw my work on Instagram, ” He starts. “ They asked if I had a girlfriend – I was expecting them to get upset when I said yes, but they just started squealing and asked to see a picture of you. Said we looked good together. ”

You breathe slow while your heart beats fast.

He says the rest to you in words that speak louder than he does. “ I liked hearing that. ”

You swallow. “So, you kept saying it?”

“ ... Would you be upset if I did? ”

You stare down at your hands, wondering if he’s saying what you think he is. Your voice cracks nervously when you respond. “ No … I don’t think I would.”

When he breathes into the phone, it sounds like the first he’s taken in a while.

“ You can say it, too – if you want. ”

Your fingers start to go numb, and your face starts to burn. “That I’m your girlfriend?”

“ Yeah – if you want to. ”

“You’d be okay with me telling people that?”

“ Yes. A hundred percent. ”

You swallow, unable to process this conversation. There’s nowhere that your heart isn’t beating right now, and you wish so desperately that you could be with him right now. Just to see what he’s thinking, always written so clearly all over his face.

“You’d be okay with me introducing you to people like that?”

“ Yes. Y/n, yes. ”

“You’re okay with that title? Suna Rintarou, Y/n’s boyfriend?”

There’s silence on the other end, and then the cut of the dial tone.

You blink, your heart pounding in your ears, and stare down at your phone.

He’d hung up.

Your phone buzzes just as you’re starting to spiral.

[7:22 PM]

Sunarin : fuck i panicked

Sunarin : you made me nervous

Sunarin : sorry

You start to smile against your will, your stomach filling with relief.

You : find a better coping mechanism

You : i hate that one

Sunarin : i want it

Sunarin : the title, i mean

Sunarin : i want it

Your heart starts to pound for him, just like it always does.

You : you want to be my boyfriend?

Sunarin : fuck

Sunarin : yes

Sunarin : fuck

Sunarin : sorry, im still nervous

You : youre kind of a mess rin

Sunarin : i know

Sunarin : that was the first time i thought about saying those words

Sunarin : and it fucked me up

You stare down at your phone, watching him fall apart and wondering if this is really, truly happening.

He calls again.

You lift the phone to your ear wordlessly.

“ Hi. ”

You really like him.

“Hi.”

“ I feel like a fucking teenager. ”

You swallow, laughing tightly. “Yeah. I don’t really know what to do. I feel like I just got hit by a truck-”

“ I really want to be your boyfriend. ”

Your heart stops in your throat.

When you respond, it’s weak. “There goes the truck again.”

“ I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want this to be unclear anymore. ” He’s starting to ramble in your ear. “ I want to be your boyfriend. And I want to tell everyone you’re my girlfriend. ”

You press a hand to your chest, leaning back against his pillows and squeezing your eyes shut while you try to breathe.

“ I want you in my apartment, Y/n. I want you in my bed and in my kitchen and on my couch and in my car. I want you everywhere.”

“ Rin ,” You choke, every cell in your body burning.

“Everything I look at reminds me of you. I want to buy you everything. I want to bring you everywhere.”

You think you might cry.

“ God, Y/n, I don’t know what you did to me, but I think I- ” He cuts short, breathing hard.

You stare at the ceiling, your heart stuttering painfully.

“You what?”

You hear when he swallows.

“ I want this. All of it. ”

You have the distinct feeling that that’s not what he was going to say.

“ Do you… want to be my girlfriend? ” He laughs nervously. “ I guess I haven’t asked yet. ”

You close your eyes, head fuzzy. “I think you ruined me, Rin.”

When he laughs, low and warm in your ear, everything that’s not him falls away from you.

“ Weird way to tell me you love me. ”

Delirium is the only way to explain why you smile and say-

“I want this, Rintarou. All of it.”

You’re not surprised when he hangs up on you again.

–

The first person you tell, unsurprisingly, is Atsumu.

On Thursday, after a series of morning texts from Suna that leave you blushing like a schoolgirl, you rush into his bathroom, washing up with icy water and trying to talk yourself into a sense of normalcy. And then, when it doesn’t work, you snatch your phone off the sink.

“ This better be good, ” Atsumu says when he answers. “ Because Omi-kun’s lookin’ real scrumptious this morning, and I ain’t above hangin’ up on you. ”

You stare at your reflection when you say the words to someone else for the first time. “Suna asked me to be his girlfriend last night.”

It’s Sakusa’s voice you hear first, muffled and distant.

“ What? When? How- ” There’s a scuffle on the other end, and then Sakusa’s in your ear. “ Say more, Y/n. I require more. ”

You laugh, hearing Atsumu’s complaints in the back, and then you tell them everything. Everything from staying at Suna’s place while he’s gone to finding out how he’d felt about you in the past. Everything from him treating you like more than just a situationship to you falling for him harder and harder with every second that passes. Everything from joking about your relationship to the very moment when it had stopped being a joke.

“ Oh, my- ” Atsumu had taken the phone back at some point. “ Y/n, he’s down so bad for you. I can’t believe ya didn’ realize- ”

“I never claimed to be smart!” You joke, sitting at the edge of the bed. “I was too busy being shocked he could ever be interested in me-”

“ I’ve been watchin’ him follow you around like a lost puppy for years – this ain’t surprising, darlin’.”

Sakusa’s voice cuts through from beside him. “ It seems like he really didn’t want to ruin your relationship, especially if he lasted all throughout college without making a move-”

“Yeah, that part actually was unexpected, ” Atsumu agrees. “ I had a feelin’ that he was a little sweet on ya, but I thought he just had no idea how he felt, either.” There’s a moment of peace, but peace never lasts long around Miya Atsumu. “ Come to find out he was probably thinkin’ aboutcha in the shower every night- ”

“Atsumu!” You protest. You hadn’t told them the more private details of Suna’s thoughts in college, only that he’d had some feelings he’d decided not to act on. The fact that you can very much confirm Atsumu’s speculation makes you flush in embarrassment.

“I gotta go. I have work,” You say, suddenly missing Suna very much, lovesick and awful. Atsumu must hear it, because he just chuckles under his breath.

“ Oh, yeah, I’m sure. Tell ‘work’ we say hi .”

“Shut up, Tsumu.”

“ Happy for ya!” He yells into the phone just as you’re cutting the call with a smile.

You get ready for work while on the phone with Suna. His panel’s tomorrow afternoon, so he’d stayed in the hotel today to prepare some general answers and recharge socially. It only makes you fall more, the fact that this perfect man would consider you the exception to the limits of his introversion.

You run through potential questions with him on your drive to work, but you eventually have to cut it short because he won’t stop flirting with you.

“Alright, I think that’s enough of that,” You laugh, rolling your eyes when he asks if you ‘ have any tattoos you’re down to show him backstage ’.

“ Wait, don’t go, pretty audience girl! ” He protests. “ I’ve got so much I wanna show you! ”

“I’m at work!” You yell, pulling into the parking lot.

“ Come find me after the panel, we can talk in my hotel room-”

You end the call with a bright smile, hating how easy it is for him to get to you. You shake your head, grinning to yourself as you walk into the shop.

The feeling drops when you see who’s sitting at one of the tables.

He looks up from his phone, empty coffee cup in front of him. He’d been here a while, then.

The guy from the party – the one who you hadn’t realized had resembled Suna when you’d tried hitting on him.

“Oh, hey,” He says, laying his phone on the table. He smiles, something smooth and easy and so Suna-like that you actually take a step back.

It doesn’t look right on someone who’s not Rintarou.

“Uh, hi,” You say awkwardly, moving to round the bar. Haru gives you a confused look, and you can see Osamu lingering on his side of the shop, Mayuri shooting him equally strange looks while he wipes an already clean counter down. Osamu just meets your eyes over her head, scrubbing the clean counter like it’s filthy.

The guy stands from the table, sliding his cup across the counter to Haru, who has to fumble to make sure it doesn’t crash to the floor. Haru’s embarrassed flush makes you irrationally angry.

“Can I help you?” You ask, the edge in your voice cold.

He leans on the bar in something that seems effortless and cool, but you already know that’s not how Suna would have done it, so you hate it by default.

He sticks a hand out in your direction. “I never got your name at the party, so I had to track Bokuto down and get him to focus long enough to tell me where you worked.”

You raise a brow and stare down at the hand, unimpressed. Later, you’ll realize that you’ve adopted some of Suna’s mannerisms in the last few weeks, but right now, you just want this man out of your shop.

“Well, Bokuto’s a busy man. I’m sure he had more important things to focus on.”

He drops his hand easily, but you see the tinge of annoyance in his eyes when he does. “I’m Ren.” He waits while you stare blankly up at him, and then he lifts a brow, smiling teasingly. “And you are…”

“Working,” You say blankly. “Are you here to order something?”

He glances around, taking in Haru beside you. The boy’s pouring espresso shots into a cup, but they’re not for any customer in particular, and there’s starting to be a concerning number of them in that cup. You almost smile at his auto-pilot functioning, because he’s clearly distracted with listening while trying to look like he’s not.

Ren glances to the right, and you follow it. Mayuri’s alone at the counter serving cake to a little boy, and you realize Osamu’s moved only when he literally materializes behind you at the door to the storage room.

Ren meets his eyes over your head, and you look back, finding your friend leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t look to you, keeping his eyes firmly on the man across the counter.

“I just came to ask for your number,” Ren says, and you turn slowly back to him with raised eyebrows. He smiles, and you get the feeling that that smile works on girls more often than not. “I didn’t exactly get the chance that night.”

“Lucky me,” You say. “Unfortunately for you, the trip here was pointless, because you will, once again, be leaving without my number.”

“Aw, don’t be like that.” He pretends to frown, clearly thinking you’re playing hard to get. “I came all this way.”

“I hope you enjoyed the coffee, then,” You continue to push. “Since that’s all you’re getting.”

You start to turn away and catch out of the corner of your eye that he’s decided to reach across the counter for your arm. His fingers only brush on your elbow, however, before he’s pulling back – Osamu had stepped toward you, suddenly the tallest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“I wouldn’t,” The twin says simply, glancing down at the hand lingering offensively near you, arms still crossed over his chest and eyes devoid of emotion. He seems to tower over Ren, despite their similar heights. “I really wouldn’t.”

Ren steps back, shoving his hands in his pockets with a hard swallow. He meets your eyes. “Come on, doll, we could have so much fun together.”

You face him fully, his lack of boundaries near-insulting. In your periphery, you sense Haru standing tall – inhumanly tall like Osamu and clearly unhappy with the turn this conversation is taking. You’re warmed by him, by the safety they both grant you. So you make sure to be very clear when you look Ren in his eye and say-

“I think my boyfriend would disagree.”

Osamu shifts behind you, perhaps trying to gauge how much of this is the truth, but you keep your eyes on the man before you. The one who looks so much like Rintarou, yet so, so unlike him all the same.

When he lifts a brow and smiles like he doesn’t believe you, you wonder if punching a customer would be bad for your shop reputation.

“Your boyfriend,” He says, humor in his voice.

“My boyfriend,” You repeat. “You might remember him from the party.”

A look of recognition passes over him. “ That guy?”

“The very same.”

“Right,” He says, nodding very seriously while a smile pulls at his lips. “ That’s your boyfriend.”

You feel your eye twitch involuntarily. You’re painfully glad for the courage that rises when your friends shift in shared annoyance. Slipping your phone from your pocket, you pull up your photos quickly, finding one in particular and holding it out for him to see.

It’s one of you in Suna’s bed, wrapped up in his arms while he naps against you. His face is pressed into the crook of your neck, hair fanning out all over your neck and face. He has an arm curled around you, and it’s clear even from the selfie that he’s holding you tight and pulling a warm smile out of you.

Ren’s eyes drag over it while you stare emptily at him.

“Would you like me to call him? I’m sure he’d love to chat.”

He meets your eyes and then straightens, brows furrowed. “Whatever. Don’t hit me up when he dumps your ass.”

You call out mockingly while he exits the shop. “Thanks for coming!”

As soon as the door jingles, you sigh under your breath. “What a piece of work.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t even need us anymore,” Osamu says, and you see he’s smiling when you turn to him. “A lot’s changed since high school.”

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tight. You’re shaking just slightly from the confrontation – the confidence needed to stand tall during that entire ordeal had drained you. Osamu’s familiarity recharges you in the way only an old friend can.

“I’ll always need you.” When he squeezes you affectionately, you admit what he’s dying to know. “Did I mention that I have a boyfriend now?”

He smiles against the crown of your head, mumbling, “ Fucking finally. ” He snatches your phone from you and peers down at the photo of you and Suna. “This is terrible and gross. I love it.”

You both laugh, interrupted when Haru slumps in exhaustion in the corner and holds out a cup full to the top with espresso shots. “Can I assume this is coming out of my next check?”

You pluck it from him, shaking your head as you separate it across three more cups to make everyone a free drink. “This is a heart attack waiting to happen. Mayuri, come yell at him, please.”

The girl appears in an instant, grinning wide. “My favorite pastime!”

Osamu disappears to the back, mumbling ‘ Terrible and gross ’ to himself as he goes.

Later, when you call Suna on your way home, he answers with exasperation.

“I swear to God, woman. ”

You laugh, surprised. “Hello to you, too.”

“ Did the universe send out some global signal that you’re taken now? It’s been less than 24 hours. ”

“Oh, I see. You’ve been speaking to Miya Osamu.”

“ You should have taken that guy’s number so I could track him down .”

“I think he got the message, Rin.”

“ And his name was Ren ? What kind of tacky, off-brand version of me- ”

You laugh, accepting now that you’re in a constant state of needing him. “When’s your flight back?”

There’s silence, and then a response so clearly said through a smile. “ I miss you, too. ”

“Shut up. Answer me.”

“ Monday, baby girl. ”

You warm, pulling into the parking lot with pursed lips. “That’s too far away.”

“ I agree. Want me to come back early? ”

You desperately want to say yes. “No, you shouldn’t. You need to stay and network – this is great exposure for your shop.”

“ You’re annoyingly reasonable. ”

“One of us has to be.”

You talk to him for the rest of the night, pushing down this terrible yearning that you feel. It’s best for him to stay, to speak to people and promote his work. But you can’t help that his bed feels horribly empty tonight, so you ask in a quiet voice at the end of the night if he wouldn’t mind falling asleep on the phone with you.

When he whispers ‘ Anything for you ’ while you’re curling up under his blanket, you think that what you feel for Suna Rintarou might be more than just more , and that it probably has been for quite some time.

–

On Friday, you wake to the sound of Suna groaning sleepily beside your head. You shift, lifting your head to glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It’s only 7.

You groan back at him. “Why the hell are you awake?”

“ I set my alarm super early just to be sure I wouldn’t oversleep.” His voice is groggy and low – it spreads warmth all over your skin and draws a heat from your navel that you really don’t need this morning. You’d managed to keep it down all week. “ I really regret that now .”

“Your panel’s not even until 11,” You whine, rolling over with every intent to go back to sleep.

“ Great. Now I’m thinking about it. Guess I’m up for the day. ”

You laugh into his pillow, almost missing when he mumbles the word ‘ cute ’ under his breath.

“You’re really that nervous?”

“ Terrified. I hate people, and I hate talking. ”

“Oh, man – Can’t imagine talking in front of peopl e, then.”

“ You’re a smart-ass, you know that? ”

You pull the phone to your ear with a pleased sigh. “It’s gonna be fine, baby. You’re gonna be great, and all of your socials are going to experience viral internet success.”

There’s silence on the other end, long enough to make you wonder if he’d hung up.

“Rin?”

“ Sorry. You made me nervous. ”

“How?” You laugh. “The prospect of your viral internet success?”

“ No. You called me ‘baby’. ”

Your ears burn, and your stomach flips in that lovely excited tingle. “Well, get used to it. I plan on saying it for a long, long time.”

More silence – and then a soft ‘ Fuck ’ whispered through the staticky connection.

“ I’m gonna be in big trouble for a long, long time, then. ”

You beam, clutching the blanket to your chest. “Go get ready for your panel, Rin.”

“ Okay, ” He says in a daze. “ Sounds good .” Silence, and then. “ Yeah, yes- I should go. Yeah. ”

You snicker into the phone, overcome with the urge to scream your adoration for him. “You’re gonna do so great, baby. And then you can come home, and we can celebrate.”

“... Fuck. ”

“ Go, Rin-” You throw your head back and laugh loudly, hearing as it echoes off the walls. “Go. Eat breakfast and get there early and network your ass off.”

“ Yes, okay – yeah. ”

“ Goodbye , Rintarou.”

“ Okay. Bye – love you .”

He hangs up.

You stare down at nothing, the dial tone ringing in your ear.

Oh.

Suna Rintarou just told you he-

Oh.

Your phone buzzes against your ear with an incoming text.

[7:06 AM]

Sunarin : fuck

Sunarin : y/n im

Sunarin : fuck

You swallow, feeling the layer of panic smothering his texts. Your own heart pounds in your ears – that pounding of more, ever-present and painfully clear now.

You can’t imagine the horror he’s sitting in, not knowing what to do or how you’re taking it – not knowing just how much he doesn’t need to worry about this.

With shaking hands, you call him back. When he picks up, he’s in a mental spiral.

“ Y/n, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, and I- ”

“I love you, too.”

And then you hang up.

It takes a full minute for him to text you.

[7:08 AM]

Sunarin : you fucking

Sunarin : menace

Sunarin : youre so fucking done for when i get home

Friday passes so irritatingly slowly without him, but that little mumbled ‘ love you ’ ringing in your ear is all you remember.

–

“So?” You ask, throwing your keys in the bowl at the door, a wide smile spread across your face. “Tell me everything!”

“ Holy shit, Y/n, it was- ” Suna laughs, and you hear him kicking his shoes off at the hotel door, too. “ I can’t even remember all the people I met – so many names. ”

“Wait, start at the beginning!” You whine, undressing as you make your way to his shower. “Start over, from the top.”

“Okay, okay.” The shower turns on on his end, too, and you feel your heart swell at your paralleled routines. “So I get there at 9-ish, and people are already coming up to me. I didn’t realize this, but I guess once it was announced that I was on the roster, people who like my work started talking about it all over Twitter, and it kind of blew up-”

“What?!” You step into the shower, keeping your phone on the sink so you can hear him. “You went viral before the day even started!”

“ I guess?! ” His voice is muffled, and you laugh at the mental image of him screaming over the running water. “ I was bombed with people coming up to me for two hours, and then there was a huge crowd at the panel! There were so many questions! ”

“Say more, damn it!” You joke, needing every ounce of detail.

You shower and eat dinner while listening to him recount the entire panel – that there were three other artists with him, all in different specialties, and that he’d gotten along well with them. That he’d joked about his social introversion once he’d started getting a long stream of questions, that the entire audience had found that funny and wanted even more interaction with him after that. That people had asked about his background and college experience and future plans for the shop and everything in between.

“ Oh, those girls were there – from the other day, ” He says, both of you in bed now. “ One of them got up and asked if my girlfriend and I had any matching tattoos. I told her ‘Not yet, but we’ve got a tattoo date planned for when I get home’.”

You laugh, chest warm with affection. “I bet everyone loved that. That’s charming and smooth.”

“ No kidding, ” He agrees. “ She has no clue what she started – I had people coming up to me afterward asking about you. ”

“Yeah?” You ask with interest.

“ Asking what you do, what you think of me and my work, how you’ve supported me while I was starting my own business – all of it. ”

“I like that you got asked about me…” You admit, picking at a loose string on the blanket.

“ I liked talking about you. I think everyone could tell that was my favorite part. ”

“God,” You laugh. “You’re like those celebrities that always talk about their wives in interviews. Everyone loves a guy like that.”

“ You tryna tell me somethin’? ”

“Huh?” You blink, thinking.

“ I can take a hint, babe .” He jokes. “ We can skip the dating phase if you want .”

You laugh loudly, surprised. “Don’t even think about it, Rintarou. We said ‘ I love you ’ within 48 hours of dating – let’s take one thing slow, please.”

He sighs dramatically on the other end, but you can hear how pleased he is.

“ Fine, fine. Whatcha gonna do for the rest of the night? ”

“Probably just read something. Maybe watch a show.”

“ You’re in bed? ”

“Of course.”

“ Show me. I miss you. ”

You roll your eyes but pull your phone away, snapping a quick overhead picture and sending it to him. You listen to the shuffle of him checking his messages, and then there’s quiet on his end. You wait, a brow lifted.

“Rin?”

“ Shit. ”

“...What?” You’d heard the shift in his voice, deeper and heavier than it’d been just a moment ago. You recognize it, and that warmth from the morning – the one pulled from your navel, molten and dangerous – returns.

“ Is that what you’ve been wearing to bed all week ?”

You look down at yourself. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties, frumpy and simple.

“Yes…?”

He breathes a heated sigh. “ That’s fucking unfortunate. ”

Your nerve endings start to tingle, a suspiciously familiar electric crackling in the pit of your stomach. “Why’s that?” You ask weakly.

He doesn’t respond, but your phone buzzes with a message.

Your breath catches when you look.

It’s an overhead of him, too – shirtless and sporting a pair of grey sweats, he’s got one hand on the band of his pants, his silver bracelet glinting in the light. His inked skin looks warm, a slight sheen from his shower still lingering in a way that makes your mouth water. But it’s just below the waist that your eyes are trained.

Because Suna Rintarou’s just sent you a rather compromising picture of himself, one capturing the heat in his eyes and the rather noticeable tent in his sweats.

You swallow hard. “Seems like something needs your attention, Rin.”

“ That’s too bad. My attention’s elsewhere. ”

You shift, the needy feeling setting in. “Rin…”

Your phone starts to beep in your ear. You lift it, seeing the incoming notification.

Your face burns when you accept the FaceTime request.

He looks the way he had in the photo – eyes hooded and glazed slightly, distracted. He meets your gaze, a smile pulling at his lips.

“ Hi, pretty girl. ”

Your eyelids flutter, and your thighs press together involuntarily. “Hi, baby.”

He inhales sharply at the name, tugging the lip ring between his teeth. His eyes drop to the t-shirt you’re wearing. “ Still got that on? ”

You shrink under his gaze. “‘s yours. Wanna keep it on.”

His eyes are sharp when they find yours, and his gaze burns through you. “ Well, when you word it like that… ”

You laugh nervously, seeing in the camera how red your face is. “Still got those sweats on?”

You’re granted the satisfaction of watching his cheeks color at your question, eyes looking away from you shyly.

“ Want me to take ‘em off? ”

“ Yes ,” You breathe, hooking your thumb into your own underwear. “Please.”

Suna throws his phone on the bed, and you hear the shuffle of him removing his pants. You join him, sliding out of your panties and shivering when the cold air hits your heated core.

His voice wavers when he’s back in the frame. “ Show me? ”

Your stomach swarms with nerves, but you flip the camera around anyway. You watch in real time how his eyes widen, flicking around the scene of your legs spread open on his sheets.

“ Fuck, ” He groans, training his gaze on the spot that makes you most nervous. “ You look so good in my bed, Y/n. ”

The only thing that keeps you from turning the camera off in your embarrassment is the way his eyes have changed. His gaze has taken on a slightly unhinged edge, razor sharp and unmoving from that heated spot between your thighs. And when he swallows hard and breathes out an uneven sigh, you remember that this is the only person in the whole world you don’t ever have to be afraid of.

With shaking fingers, you put your hand on your knee and slide it slowly down your thigh. Suna tracks it, eyes widening when you get close to your core. When your middle and ring fingers push down against your clit, circling slowly, his jaw goes slack and his eyelids flutter.

“ Shit, ” He breathes, and you watch that lip ring disappear between his teeth again. “ I’ve never watched you touch yourself before. ”

The realization of that fact makes you more nervous, but the way he’d said it – desperate, eager – makes you whimper, and you swipe your fingers over your clit again. When you drop them to your folds, sliding through once and then again, Suna groans quietly.

“ You look so fucking good, Y/n.”

The camera shakes with movement, and you realize he’s starting to touch himself.

“No fair,” You whine softly.

He swallows, blushing, and turns his camera around, too. The sight of his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slowly, has you moaning his name and swiping your fingers hard against your clit.

The strain of his voice affects you more now that you can’t see his face – it sounds more desperate, more needy.

“ Shit. I was doing so well before this. ”

Your stomach flips nervously. “Me, too. I swear I’ve been good all week.”

He laughs low, but you hear when it cuts into a moan as he thumbs at the head of his cock. “ I believe you, baby. You’re always good for me. ”

You shiver, pushing the tip of your middle finger against your entrance while you breathe his words back to him distractedly. “ So good for you. Promise. ”

He sighs shakily, groaning your name when your finger disappears past your entrance. “ Go ahead, baby girl. The other one, too. ”

You slip your ring finger in beside your middle, sliding both in as far as you can. He moans at the sight, and you echo it back when he finds a pace to stroke himself, flicking his wrist.

“You look so pretty, Rin.”

He groans through pursed lips, laughing roughly as he squeezes tight around the base of his cock. “ You can’t say things like that, Y/n. I’m actually trying to last longer than thirty seconds.”

You giggle, sliding your fingers out slowly and thrusting back in, sharper than before. “Not my fault – you made me needy.”

“ Yeah, well, you’re gonna make me embarrass myself if you don’t cut it out. ”

“I’d love to make you embarrass yourself. You’re real pretty when you blush.”

“ Y/n- ” He complains through annoyed laughter. “ I will start begging. ”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” You smile. “The last time you begged for something, I had an earth-shattering orgasm, so…”

When he laughs this time, it’s heavier and full of desire. “ Keep going, then – maybe I can help you get there again this time. ”

You whine, curling your fingers once before pulling them out. You repeat the motion, feeling the coil start to form in your navel. You keep that pace, fingering yourself slowly while you remain entirely distracted by how Suna’s hand looks around his cock.

He notices that you’re not focusing after a moment, his voice low when he speaks to you.

“You can do better than that, can’t you?” You groan, arousal flaring in the pit of your stomach. “Not my fault I’m so distracted.”

“ Gotta be stronger than that, baby. I’m really in the mood to watch you fuck yourself.”

Your breath leaves you instantly, and your hand jerks, your fingers harsh when you thrust into yourself. It makes you jolt, and you moan his name involuntarily.

He sighs, strained, and whispers ‘ that’s it, love ’ when you find a faster pace, one that arises entirely out of you forgetting to keep control. Your eyes roll back, and you whisper his name again and again, on each slam of your palm against your clit.

He groans low, his own hand matching your pace and sliding against his cock. He’s rough, the same way you are with yourself.

“ God, you look so good like this. ” His voice shakes, and he groans your name again quietly. “ Show me again when I get home? ”

“ Rin, ” You whine. Your brain is hot with static, your fingers not nearly close enough to how he feels. “Yes. Anything. Yes.” You watch his hand move, the coil burning when you think of how much better this would feel with him here. “ Not the same without you, ” You mumble.

He laughs. “ Miss my fingers, love? ”

“ Miss your everything. ”

“ Y/n, ” He breathes, and you watch his pace become a bit uneven. “Miss you. So much. ”

You shiver, the static spreading down your neck and shoulders as you come close to the edge. “ Love you, Rin- ”

His breath cuts sharply, and yours follows when you realize how that had affected him.

“ Fucking shit, Y/n- ” He says it on a harsh exhale, his cock twitching hard in his grip. “ You gotta warn me- ”

“I love you, Rintarou,” You repeat, stronger this time. He groans loudly, and you hear the sheets shift when he throws his head back against the pillow.

“ Y/n- ” His breath stutters, and he stops moving, his hand shaking. “ I love you- ”

The coil in your navel twists so hard that you gasp as you watch him fall over the edge.

“ I love you, Y/n, I- ” He moans your name, voice cracking, and his muscles contract as he spills onto his skin.

Your back bows off the mattress when the coil snaps, and you’re following his lead, his name a mantra on your lips when your vision goes white. Everything else falls away, and all you hear is his voice, telling you he loves you.

You come back to yourself some time after he does, your body slumped with exhaustion and your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“ Y/n- ” He says, panting. “ You okay, baby? ”

You hum sleepily, shivering as you draw your fingers away from yourself. You flip the camera around with half-closed eyes. He’s doing the same, and you find yourself laughing quietly when you see how flushed his face is.

“Hi, pretty boy.”

He rolls his eyes. “ Feel okay? ”

“Mhm,” You nod. “Would have been better with you here.”

“ Why? ‘Cause I’ve got longer fingers than you? ”

You flush hard. “I was trying to be wholesome.”

“ I need at least another minute before I can be wholesome. I have cum all over my skin. ”

A giddy laugh bubbles out of you. “God, I love you. You’re so dumb.”

Suna’s face burns, and a shy smile tugs at his lips. “ Yeah, whatever. I love you, too. ”

–

On Saturday afternoon, you drive over to your apartment, windows rolled down and music blasting. Summer’s officially made its debut, and your boyfriend is less than 48 hours from coming home – you feel pretty damn good, and you want to do something to welcome Suna home on Monday.

When you walk into your place, though, the first thing you notice is the thick layer of dust on all the surfaces. How long has it been since you’ve properly been here – eaten here, slept here, worked here in your home office?

You can’t remember. You know that Suna would have been here with you – before his trip, you hadn’t slept alone in a bed in weeks, let alone your own bed.

With a hum, you start to pick up around the house, wondering if you should start looking to downsize. If you’re going to be spending all your time with Suna, there’s no reason to pay such high rent on a 2-bedroom apartment. Maybe you can find a 1-bedroom, or even a studio. Something cheaper, something that wouldn’t feel like such a waste to pay for if you’re only in it once or twice a week.

When you finish cleaning, you start digging through your closet for what you’d come here for. You remember purchasing a few select pieces that you never ended up wearing – a set of lingerie you’d intended for some one-night-stands, months and months ago. Back when you were more confident that you could go out and find a guy on your own – back before you could ever conceive the idea that your best friend might become anything more than that.

Now, as you pull the lacy black set out of your drawers, you’re infinitely glad that the first man to ever lay eyes on it will be Suna Rintarou.

You drive next to the shopping center, quickly slipping into a lingerie shop and buying a few more sets. The one you already have is nice, but you hadn’t bought it with Suna in mind. Now, knowing him – being able to imagine his reaction to every set that you consider – you’re certain about the riskier pieces that you never would have looked at before.

The girl who rings you up looks surprised at what you’ve chosen, and you catch when she scans your body judgmentally. But you just smile back at her, finding that you couldn’t care less what she thinks. And when the girl working next to her sees the sets and just shoots you a knowing wink, you feel confident in your body for the first time in a long while.

Back at Suna’s apartment, you tidy up, cleaning his place until it sparkles and smells like summer. You set the lingerie on the floor by his closet, deciding that you’ll wear a set to bed on Sunday night so that he’s surprised on Monday morning.

And then, after making dinner, you settle into his couch and turn Netflix on, choosing a random movie for the night. You’re swaddled up in a fuzzy bathrobe, donning equally stupid, fuzzy socks, your hair up in a mess. But you feel comfortable in it, warm and comfortable and excited for the morning of Suna’s return while you watch your silly rom-com.

It’s only when you hear a key in the lock of the front door that you think maybe you should have prepared for this – now painfully obvious, given his tendency for terrible decisions – turn of events.

Suna Rintarou steps through the door, fresh off a plane and two days early, and all you can do – in your stupid outfit with your stupid hair – is stare.

He stares back, eyes scanning you as he tries not to smile.

When he finally opens his mouth, what comes out is something that he’s only said once before -- at the dining table in your parents’ house, on a morning full of rain and exasperation toward a strange boy who’d seemed content with walking you to school in silence every day.

“I like your pajamas.”

You can’t help it.

You run.

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #suna rintarou #suna rintarou smut #suna x reader

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talaok · 10 months

Note

omg that dad!pedro post gave me an idea

dad!pedro and reader trying a second baby, and when they finally get pregnant they go to a check up and find out they’re having twins, and he’d be so excited 🥹

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: ahhhh stop making me fantasize about having children im too young for that shit!!

You had made a pact after Emma,

One year. You were gonna wait at least one year before you'd grant her a sibling.

Now that promise... that promise hadn't exactly been kept. As it turns out, having a baby only made the both of you even more desperate for another one.

that's why when your daughter was only a few months old, with a simple "8 months is basically 12" murmured to your ear by your desperate husband, all promises went out the window.

And that's how only a month later, the pregnancy test came back positive.

You would have expected the second time to be less emotional, but god if you were wrong.

Pedro kissed you as long as he could, as long as his lungs allowed, while neverending tears of joy fell down your cheeks.

From then on Pedro had been just perfect, he had to take on a few more tasks with Emma, and he did so gladly, always with a smile on his face, always reminding you just how happy you were making him, just how you were making all his dreams come true, reminding you that he loved you more and more every day.

He was your biggest supporter, and not a day went by that he didn't make you fall in love with him all over again.

Today included. It was time for the first check-up, and you were terribly nervous.

Which meant he took his time calming you down, kissing you softly as he promised how "everything's gonna be alright" over and over again, until finally, you were in the gynecologist's office, lying on the table as the nurse performed the ultrasound.

All the while gripping Pedro's hand for dear life.

And it was then, when the nurse's movements on your belly stopped, when you watched her examine the screen more carefully, it was when she pulled away the device from your body completely, that your heart started beating out of your chest.

"what is it?" you asked, your voice trembling, already expecting the worst.

"I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to say, I'm gonna go call the doctor" the nurse, smiled, trying to be reassuring and failing miserably

"w-what do you mean you can't say? What is it? Is it bad?"

But all she could do was shake her head slightly, answering "I'll be right back, Let me go call the doctor"

The moment the door clicked behind her, the moment you were alone, tears started filling your eyes as your brain filled with images of all that was inevitably gonna happen.

"hey, hey, hey" Pedro cooed, noticing your reaction "it's ok"

"no it's not" you whimpered "There's something wrong"

"no there isn't" he promised, stroking your cheek "Nothing's wrong, I'm sure it's nothing, I'm sure she went to call the doctor so that he can tell us that we've got the most perfect baby in the word"

"Baby..." you murmured, melting into his touch "You know that's not true, I-I must have done something wrong- I-"

"don't you even think something like that sugar" he shook his head, crouching down to be at your level "You are the most amazing mother anyone could ask for, you did absolutely nothing wrong, I promise"

"I-I don't kno-"

But before you could finish the sentence, the doctor had entered, with the nurse right behind him.

"good morning, if you don't mind I would like to take a look myself"

And with a shy nod from your part, that cold instrument was on you again, while the tall, white-haired man looked attentively at the screen.

"yes" he murmured to himself "yes it seems so"

"w-what?" you couldn't stop yourself from asking, squeezing Pedro's hand tighter

"yeah, what?" he joined

"well" the man cleared his that, checking the monitor once again "the ecograph is picking up two heartbeats"

Your heart sank,

Your baby has two hearts? You haven't even seen that on greys anatomy

"W-what do you mean two heartbeats?"

A soft smile now ghosted his features as he saw the worry on your face "Oh sorry" he apologized "I meant to say that you're having twins"

And just like that, your heart was racing again, actually not racing, it was going as fast as the fucking speed of light.

Your hearing became muffled and your mouth fell open as you turned to your left, finding in Pedro's eyes all your surprise and excitement perfectly mirrored.

His eyes were glimmering, and his lips were turned into one of the biggest smiles you'd ever seen, the same one he had on the day he proposed, on your wedding day, the day that Emma was born, and now... now the day you found out you were gonna have two beautiful babies at once.

"w-we-" you stuttered, gripping his hand and forgetting all about the company you had in the room as you got lost in his eyes

"we're having twins" he laughed, not able to stop himself from kissing you "We're having twins" he repeated "We're having twins sweetheart" he breathed once again, looking into your eyes

"god I love you so much"

477 notes · View notes

okiedokrie · 5 months

Text

High Infidelity

Summary: There are many different ways that you could kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough. So what happens when you find someone who was all too willing to give you thee attention you craved, you said you'd only dip your toes into the idea, and yet, you find yourself already drowning. The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?

Characters/Pairing(s): Xu Minghao (The8) x F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

AUs/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person (not) Too Late

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, afab!reader, wears dresses, lmk if i miss something!! (Smut warnings under the cut)

Rating: 18+

A/N: banner and dividers by @daemour!! tysm!! This is also a rewrite/reupload of my own fic, "High Infidelity" on @pyeonghongrie, yes I reskinned my own fic.

A/N 2: Thanks to @nebulousbrainsoup, @kwanisms, @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, and @gongiz for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, masturbation, lmk if i missed anything!

The rain soaked into your skin—cold and icy—piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-

"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.

You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.

Unfortunately, life said, "Fuck you."

With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your husband returns to work as if he didn't just cause you a serious inconvenience.

Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides toward your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes are left in the sink.

And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? He has to be kidding me, men.

You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making you more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.

I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following. He's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?

You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you put bacon bits on mac & cheese.

Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was the correct move.

Xu Minghao is a passionate man, you can see his dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others were sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, and others were more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.

One thing about Minghao's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.

Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece, simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.

As a romance writer, this is exactly what you need.

You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.

You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.

You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'11", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has a peculiar hairstyle, a mullet to be exact, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.

"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.

"I'm Minghao, by the way, Xu Minghao. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Minghao. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,

He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection, to begin with."

You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.

"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, "Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your work?"

He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear you’ve never looked at a man like this in your life. You were down bad for his smile.

"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "Although I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.

You ponder on this for a bit. Going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."

A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, “Of course, I look forward to our time together.”

The mug in your hands warmed your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you. He talked about another piece of his, titled “Longing”; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in its purest form.

“It sounds a bit pathetic, I’m known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I haven’t been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps that’s just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic. Then again, you wouldn’t know the feeling of being lonely, I assume.” He said calmly, a small chuckle ending his tangent.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea. Your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, “To put it nicely… my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.” You shouldn’t be talking about Haru like this. Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasn’t the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.

Looking back up at Minghao, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we? I could keep you company.”

That. That was a quality of his that you noticed fairly early on. You can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.

But your anxiety wasn’t caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didn’t want to reject him.

“I’d like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband won’t be back for a few months because of a business trip in a few weeks. I could use the company.” You say, looking at him through your lashes; he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, it’s just two friends agreeing to get drinks sometime in the future.

But to both of you, well, only the two of you know what’ll happen once the sun goes down.

“Of course, my schedule is free for the rest of the month. Be sure to think of me if you need company.” He offers you a soft smile, directly contrasting how intensely he’s making eye contact with you. The way he’s looking into your eyes makes you feel vulnerable like he’s directly using them as windows into your head. You’re half-convinced he could read your mind, if he could, he’s a master at hiding it.

You haven’t learned much about him, but from what you do know, you can never take his words at surface level, much less his actions. The way he’s leaning over the table, elbows on the surface, and his shoulders relaxed. His closing the distance, even if just by a hair, and the way his posture suggested the epitome of familiarity, shook you to your core.

His presence is almost suffocating, his dominance over your mind silencing whatever protest his suggestions may have created. You nod dumbly, “Of course, be warned though, I think of you a lot.” This causes his smile to relax into a smirk, the kind that could pass off as a smile if you don’t think too hard about it.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think about you a lot too.” He says picking up his cup of tea, “So much that a collection was born from the thought of you.” He takes a sip from the cup in his hands, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the cup, the way he holds eye contact with you always makes goosebumps litter your skin, the cup hiding the growing smirk on his face, silently enjoying his effect on you.

“Ah, speaking of the collection,” He started again, after setting the cup down, “Would you do me the honor of visiting my studio sometime? I’ll text you the address right now, you can come by at any time if you’re interested.” Taking his phone out from his pocket, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pick it up. The small device, usually light, feels like a heavy weight on your palm.

Opening your messages, you see that Minghao already sent the address, a building about 20 minutes from the cafe you’re in right now. “Lovely, could I trouble you to pick me up when I decide to visit?” You ask,

“Of course,” He replies, a gentle smile stretches across his face, “I’d love nothing more than to see you more often.”

The first time you entered Minghao’s studio, it felt like a dream. The studio wasn’t small by any means, the place was neat, neater than what you imagined any artist studio would look like. “Make yourself at home, I’ll brew some tea for us,” Minghao said as he took both your coats. Hanging the heavy fabrics on his coat rack, he gently guides you to the couches with a hand on your back, the light touch helping to ground you in this new environment.

He shoots you a quick smile before turning his back to you, setting his electric kettle to boil the water at the perfect temperature for tea. He rummages through his extensive tea set collection, settling on a simple white ceramic set with wooden handles. His eyes meet yours briefly, taking note of how you watch his every movement with care and curiosity, the way you were fascinated with the way his hand veins jumped every time he set a piece of the tea set down.

The kettle finishes boiling, he finally sets it down next to the tea set. “I want to introduce you to this teacake that my friend from home sent me,” He pulls out a teacake about the size of his head from the drawer under the table, wrapped in a slightly stained paper. He carefully unwraps it to show you the rich brown of the aged tea leaves, “This is a 15-year-old aged pu’er, I haven’t had the chance to try it yet, so I’d like to try this with you.”

“What an honor, I read from a recent interview that you were waiting for a good day to taste that right?” You ask, trying to gauge his reaction, if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it,

“Of course, making a new friend is a special occasion, isn’t it? I’d consider that a good day.” He replies cooly, taking a tea knife and carving out a piece of tea to steep for a second, you watch as he delicately handles the porcelain set, the control in his movements reminding you of his mastery in sculpting, “You know, making tea is much like cultivating a new relationship,” he starts as he stands up to take the kettle off the stand.

“You carefully carve out your leaves, boil your water to the perfect temperature to bloom them, and steep the leaves a few seconds at a time.” You see him pour the water over the tea leaves, dried blades blooming like flowers under the delicate stream. “Each steep of tea is different, starting from the bloom until the flavor develops; and only then will you appreciate the true complexities of what tea has to offer.”

A small smile grows on your face as you watch him pour the first bloom onto his tea pets, “If my assessment is correct, you’re trying to correlate the developing flavors of tea with how our relationship is progressing?” He nods, confirming your hypothesis, “Then, I’ll ask you a question, which steep are we on?” you say with a cheeky smile.

Minhao grins at this, eyes almost disappearing with how wide his smile was, “Literally? The second steep.” He says as he pours more water over the leaves, you let out a chuckle at his little joke, “Figuratively? The fifth.”

You tilt your head a bit, “The fifth? I didn’t realize we were already at that stage.” you say as you accept his offer of a teacup.

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t just share my most expensive teas with anyone, so I might as well share it with one of the most brilliant minds I know.” he said while bringing the cup to his lips, sipping the drink carefully while making eye contact with you over the rim, winking playfully.

You raise your cup as well, the rising steam not being the only reason for your flushed face, you grin against the rim of your cup, savoring the rich and deep aroma of the high-quality tea.

After a while of banter and small talk, you finish your tea, setting down your cup gently on his expensive-feeling coffee table, he stands from his seat, “Could I show you something?” he said, holding his hand out to you. You place your palm on his, the warmth from his hand seeping into your skin. The touch was negligible, simple, even, but the contact with his skin sent electricity through you, like a violent jolt of excitement.

Minghao notices this and smirks, feeling pride swell up in his chest as he pulls you up from the couch, leading you to the other side of the room with a hand on the small of your back. He finally stops in front of a large canvas, laid across what looks like a bare-bones bed frame. You turn to him, curiosity growing on the expression of your face.

“What’s this? This looks fairly new, the paint on the frame still seems wet.” You ask, eyes raking over the splotches of color seemingly placed without much thought or care, it looked like the aftermath of a messy and angry paint spill.

“It is new,” Minghao starts, “I’m trying a new technique where I release frustrations by getting whatever paint catches my eye and throwing cups of it without much thought.” He shrugs, nothing particularly of note, but you do notice the amount of emotion that is in the piece.

“It’s not an elegant piece, but for a collection centered around passion I find it missing raw emotion.” He runs his hand through his face, frustration taking over his features, something you noticed early on was his emotions were closely tied to whatever art was around him, it seems as though the frustration in this one was affecting him at this moment.

“Yes, the human form and sex are great subjects, but pure, raw emotion is hard to capture.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. “So, that’s why I invited you here. Tell me, as someone who’s written longing, despair, and everything in between. How does this make you feel?”

You pause and take in his words, turning back to the canvas and trying to soak in the colors, the shapes, and the emotion behind this piece. Yes, frustration is here. Yes, anger is here. But how does it make you feel?

“It makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.” You say simply, your stomach sinking just thinking about what that might entail. Minghao has a genuine look of shock for the first time since you’ve met him. His head tilted to give his attention to you fully.

“Really? Interesting. That’s the first time I heard that about this piece specifically.” He said with a lopsided grin, seemingly getting a new stroke of genius with your answer. He looks back at the canvas too, shoulders shaking from his restricted laughs. Your answer seemed to entertain him a lot. That much you can figure out, but you can never be sure what goes on in the mind of Xu Minghao.

Just then, your phone starts to ring, you only know one person who would call you at this hour—your Husband. You watch as the expression on Minghao’s face falls, face contorting into something short of a scowl for a split second before settling on his usual cool neutral expression. It was so quick that you barely missed the change, it happened so quickly that you decided it was all in your imagination as you ran to answer the phone.

You pick up the phone, “Hi honey-” You were cut off by your husband speaking,

“Get home, it’s getting late and you haven’t started dinner yet.” He said simply, before promptly dropping the call.

You stand there, the line going dead as you try to hold back tears. You take a deep breath, too afraid to show your face to Minghao in case tears were about to fall from your face. Grabbing your coat, you turn to face the door.

“Thank you for inviting me over, I have to get home now,” you said, your voice a little shaky, as you roughly opened the door.

You were out of his sight as Minghao stood alone in his studio, pondering. As silence took over the space, a dark smirk on his face.

'How long before you break?' he wonders.

The next time you and Minghao meet, you’re sitting on a park bench watching the autumn leaves dance to the silent song in the wind. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear leaves crunch beside you, seeing the tail of Minghao’s long coat swaying in the wind.

He sees you, a smile spreading across his face, his long hair almost covering his face. His fast-paced walking makes the leaves crunch under his weight rhythmically. You think that he looks beautiful under the soft brightness of the autumn morning, only ever seeing him in the harsh rays of high noon or the constant humming of fluorescent lights.

You feel the heat radiating off his body through your and his coats as he sits next to you on the park bench. “Beautiful morning, the view is exquisite.” He says, looking directly at you. You giggle at this, he’s always been such a charmer ever since you met him. You peel the notebook from your lap, “I’m no artist, but the park is too gorgeous this time of year to not at least try to capture on paper.” you say as you open it to show him a relatively crude sketch of the scenery.

“Oh? This feels like a threat to my career.” He says with a chuckle, “But, genuinely, this is an amazing sketch. Are you sure you aren’t an artist?” You think you could get used to how relaxed you were around Minghao, conversations with him flowed so easily, it reminds you of the times your husband used to be invested in you as a person. Perhaps it was easier to compare the thrill of meeting a new person with feeling the start of a romantic spark, it was a dangerous game to play with him.

“No, I’m not, but I can appreciate a masterpiece when I see one.” You say, this time looking at him. He notices this and laughs at the fact that his joke is being used against him. He closes the notebook, handing it to you to put in your tote bag.

“The weather is perfect for a walk, care to join me?” He said, offering his hand for you to take. You accept the offer, the warmth of his palm being something to ground you on such a dreamy morning. Leaves crunch under both your weights in synch, your hand moves from his to hold onto his arm, and you try not to notice the lean muscle of it or the steady and secure way he guides you through the path.

You breathe in the autumn chill, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed the quiet whistle of the wind. “Your book,” Minghao said, his silky voice cutting through the silence effortlessly, “The one that inspired the collection, I’ve been following your publisher’s updates on the series, and I was wondering if you'd be able to share your progress on the second book?”

“Ah, about that.” You grimace, and you shake your head, quelling the urge to complain about your husband’s lack of sympathy for your predicament. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time, it’s not something I can talk about at the moment.”

He hums, luckily, Minghao was never the type to pry, “I get it, ever the tortured poet you are.” he said in a joking tone, you let out a chortle at this, agreeing that you may or may not be one.

Both of you are stopped by a flower vendor, “You both are a lovely pair,” The old man starts, as he turns to Minghao, he asks, “Could I interest you in some flowers? I’m sure your lady would appreciate them.” He smiles.

Before you can correct the old man, Minghao speaks up, “Of course, could I take three of these?” He said, pointing at the basket of Jonquils.

“Of course, you’re in luck too, these are the last off-season flowers I had in my greenhouse.” the old man said as his nimble fingers wrapped the flowers in some yellow tissue paper.

“I'm really lucky indeed.” He agreed while looking at you, your cheeks warming up at the implication. Minghao accepts the flowers and happily pays for them, gracefully handing the bundle to you.

Holding onto the stems, your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the bright yellow flowers. “Thank you Minghao, they're beautiful.”

He smiles at the way you look at the flowers fondly, simply adoring the way your face lit up; literally, the yellow from the flowers reflected off your face and gave it a yellow hue.

“Shall we continue to walk?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold again, you hold onto it, the flowers in your other hand. And you let the silence take over again.

Before you knew it, you've spent the entire day laughing and talking with Minghao, only stopping at several vendors for food and other trinkets, feeding the ducks berries, and watching the fish in the pond.

But the day has to end at some point.

You regretfully leave Minghao at the train station, waving goodbye through the glass of the train doors as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller.

Arriving home, you try to find a vase to put your flowers in, setting it down on the kitchen counter, your husband walks in and sees them.

“They're ugly, don't put them anywhere where I could see them.”

He said coldly, you try your best not to scoff at him, still searching for a vacant vase.

Finally finding one, you decide to place the flower vase on the windowsill of your office, the bright flowers contrasting everything else in the room, the dark and neutral furniture your husband got for you.

You jolt, realizing you're comparing your husband to another man.

You expected guilt to eat you up at the realization, but really, you couldn't find a reason to keep defending Haru.

“Could you come over to the studio later tonight? I don't think I should be alone.”

This text from Minghao worried you a bit, you've been spending a lot of time with him recently, you met him 6 more times after he got you flowers at the park, and you never noticed that he could deal with something so sinister.

Of course, you agree to come, your closest confidant in your adult life needs you right now. You wait for your husband to fall asleep in his office, again, before you leave the house, walking to the end of the block before calling a cab.

Arriving at his studio, you already knew the code, punching in the numbers 150526 on the smart lock, the studio opens with a click.

You take cautious steps into the studio, seeing the silhouette of a man on the couch, his back towards the door, nursing what you assume is a wine glass in his hand.

He turns his head to face the door, “You came.” He said, with relief in his voice, a little slurred from the alcohol you assume.

“You called.” You replied. Shrugging off your coat to hang, you join him on the couch. He looked a lot more disheveled compared to the usual clean and put-together Minghao that you know.

His hair is slicked back, some pieces of hair falling onto his face, his tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And glasses resting lowly on his nose.

You look at his face, and you notice dark circles around his eyes.

“Drink, and stay with me. Please.” He asks, no, almost begs you. You don't have the heart to decline. He pours you your glass and you both toast your glasses together.

You take the normal sip and he downs the rest of his, taking in a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Y/N, there's something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach drops at this, anxiety filling the pit of it as you nervously wait for the rest of what he has to say.

“I think I'm in love with-” he pauses, “someone I shouldn't be in love with.” He finishes, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine.

Your face falls only slightly, a minuscule change in expression that neither you nor Minghao catch. You cross your hands over your lap as soon as you realize your silence.

“Why can't you be in love with them?” You ask. Your head tilts as you take another sip of your wine. He hums, a smile graces his lips, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

“They refuse to be vulnerable with me, opening up throughout our time together then closing back in the next time I see them.” He says with some fondness, “Also, they're married to someone else.”

“You probably should've led with that.” You mumble lowly, “I see, I know that all too well, wanting someone you can't have, someone so close yet so far. It's suffocating, especially when you haven't felt like yourself in so long, and then this person comes around and gives color back to your sad, gray, life. It's cruel, actually.”

You realize you've been rambling, turning to meet Minghao's eyes, you notice an emotion swirling behind them, something bittersweet, a realization that may change the course of your relationship.

“Anyway, how did you end up falling for them in the first place?” You ask in an attempt to bring the conversation back to him,

“Well, at first it was just a cure for boredom, I saw how receptive they were to my advances and I thought their marriage served as a fun, harmless challenge for me. But I got to know them, spend time with them, I got to witness the color come back into their face and I couldn't help but find it beautiful. That fact that I did that, bring color back into their face, slowly becoming someone again. The moment I saw their face light up with a simple gift I knew I was down, down bad.”

You hum, thinking the person Minghao was talking about is one of the luckiest people in the world right now. To be loved by him was like witnessing Orpheus’ choiceless grief that drove him to save his lover from the underworld, it was like feeling the devotee's dread-filled need to turn around, it was like experiencing the immediate forgiveness of Eurydice.

You wanted to be loved by him.

You both continue to chat and drink, and it isn't long before the two of you finish your second bottle of wine, Minghao offers to pay for your cab home, and he decides he's going to sleep in his studio.

You reflect on the events of that night as you slip into the cold covers of your marital bed, your husband’s side tidy as it was for the past month.

You run your hand over the pristine and cold sheet, imagining someone else filling its space on your bed, as he does your heart.

Minghao added a new piece to his collection, his gallery is still a work in progress and you walk through familiar doors. The very same statue you were entranced by still sits by the entrance, and you see a very familiar figure standing in front of it.

“I feel like this already happened before.” You said cheekily, he snorts at this, handing you a paper bag with tissue paper peeking from the top.

“Maybe this happened before in a dream, maybe we were destined to meet under the judgemental fluorescent lights.” He jokes as you feel the weight of the bag on your fingers.

“What's in the bag, Hao?” You ask cautiously, mischief flashing on his face before he fully turns his body to you, giving you his full attention.

“It's something you might like, maybe.” He said, his confidence faltering toward the end of his sentence. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he eagerly waits for you to open the semi-heavy bag.

You carefully move the paper to the side of the bag, seeing white porcelain peaking back at you, you whip your head with with your face showing an expression of surprise. Minghao smiles, enjoying your reaction to his gift.

“You got me a tea set? That's so thoughtful, thank you.” You say with a smile, inspecting the frog patterns in the glaze.

“You mentioned your husband is leaving for a business trip soon, so I figured you'd like a set so we can have tea at your place. I'll even bring you a teacake to keep.” He said as he pulled a hand out of his trousers, fixing a stray hair that fell from your up-do.

“It's perfect, thank you.” You said, looking up at him, a smile still on your face.

“Do you want to walk around the gallery with me? I added a few pieces since then, and I'd like to talk about them.” he said, offering his arm. You wrap another hand around him, the familiarity of his arm under your palm giving you a sense of calm.

You spent the rest of the day walking around the gallery and chatting, other gallery-goers openly gawked at Minghao. It was obvious, really, the artist is here in the flesh, and he's gorgeous.

Minghao stopped to entertain other guests too, seeing him in his element made pride swell in your chest. His work, and by extension him, is finally being recognized by more people in the community. His hard work and dedication paid off handsomely.

Stopping in front of a mural, you noticed it was a replica of a really old painting. A painting of Ares and Aphrodite getting caught by Hephestus.

“Oof, poor bastards.” You joke, Minghao found this funny too, chuckling with you.

“It’s almost comical how this painting compelled me. I don't know what drove me to recreate the thing as a whole mural, but we both know I'm a little crazy.” He says with a playful groan, you try to hold back a loud laugh by giggling into your palm.

“Well, dear Xu Minghao, everyone knows crazy people are geniuses.” squeezing his arm, you check out the side of his face. His side profile was so sharp and soft at the same time, the dichotomy of his features was an easy subject to study. He's a gorgeous man, too gorgeous for his own good you think.

You both sat down on the bench in front of the mural to chat, and before you knew it, enough time has passed that the gallery was about to close.

Minghao calls a cab for you, and you arrive home in-tact, but not safe.

“Y/n, where have you been running off to these past few weeks?” Your husband questioned you as soon as you entered your home. Your mood instantly dropped, feeling the weight of your actions all at once.

“I'm hanging out with a friend, and it's really not that deep. It's not like I've neglected house work at all. So you should have a reason to care.” You snap back, a little too much for such a simple query. Your husband rises from his seat, cupping your face with a gentle hand for the first time in a long time.

“You’re my wife, of course it's my concern.” He said, just as he was about to make you fall for him again, he said, “We haven't been intimate in a long time, I'm leaving in a few days, so I want to make love to you before I go.”

Ah, there it was. He only ever shows affection for you when he's asking for sex nowadays.

You nod, what followed was unfulfilling and unsatisfying sex. Missionary, a few pumps just to get him off, and he didn't even kiss you.

And obviously, he didn't make you cum.

Your husband is fast asleep in your bed for the first time in months, and yet you can't find it in yourself to be happy about it.

You take out your trusty friend, egg.

The jolts to life with steady vibrations as you press the toy to your clit, relaxing into the sheets as you imagine a pair of calloused hands roaming the plane of your skin.

Controlled pressure and technique only a sculptor could have, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes holding you gaze as if you gave him everything he could ever want by simply existing.

He looks at you like you hung each star in the sky just for him, just so he could watch your skin bathed in moonlight, twinkling like the most precious diamond he could ever have.

This man isn't your husband, It was Minghao.

Your orgasm came unexpectedly, the realization that you were fantasizing about him snapped you back into reality so violently that you ruined your own orgasm.

You huff as you tuck the toy back into its drawer, pulling up the covers to try and sleep off the guilt.

Your husband left for his business trip a few days ago, and you made preparations for your first guest in a while. You finally set up the tea set when you heard a knock at your door, springing up, you head towards the door to look through the peephole, you see Minghao dressed a little more casually, a cap on his head and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You swiftly unlock the door for him, he smiles upon seeing you, tipping his cap, he says, “Good evening, it's a pleasure to finally be invited into your home.” You greet him back, stepping to the side to let him enter. As he does, he takes his cap off to let his hair fall onto his face again.

He offers you the flowers and you take them, “I'll go find a vase for these, make yourself at home, dinner is still cooking in the oven.” You said as you turned back to find another vase.

After finding one and setting the flowers in your office again, you find Minghao setting a record on your turntable, a slow tune plays through the air, instantly making the room feel calmer and homey.

“I didn't pin you as the type to have such an extensive vinyl collection, you have good taste too.” He said, swaying to the music by shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“I didn't feel the need to mention it considering I haven't touched those in a while. My husband hates them.” You say solemnly.

“Well, he isn't here now. Let's enjoy the music,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take, “Dance with me?”

You smile as you take his hand, he suddenly pulls you towards him and you land on his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as you sway to the calm of the music.

You think to yourself, This is nice, this is safe. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Minghao instead.

You turn your head and press your ear to his chest, hear him breathe slowly, his heart beating rhythmically. This is the first time you were ever this close to him, practically holding him in a loving embrace.

His woody cologne almost distracts you, so seductive and masculine and you almost reach up to cup his face, to kiss him. Before you realize that he isn't your husband.

You're both snapped out of your little bubble when the oven dings, signaling that dinner is ready. You break away from him, already missing his warmth as you set the dining table, one that hasn't been used in a while.

You eat dinner with him, talking about your days and how work has been. It's a welcome change of pace from your husband’s tolerance of your presence. You didn't have to beg Minghao for footnotes on his life, you didn't feel like you're taking up too much of his space or time.

It's safe, secure. It feels like you're being celebrated for existing.

You dwell on this feeling long after Minghao heads home, your stomach and heart full. As you slip into the covers you wonder what it'll feel like to hold him under them, for him to kiss the crown of your head and whisper the three words you desperately wanted to hear again.

You fall asleep with the fantasy that when you wake up, he'll be right next to you.

Minghao invited you downtown this time, various pop-up stores of luxury brands recently opened and he just secured a sale of a really expensive painting; so of course, what better way to spend that money than taking a shopping trip with his closest friend.

“This would look amazing on you.” He said while taking out a dress, it's a color that compliments your hair and skin wonderfully. Minghao always knew how to dress.

“Oh, I'm inclined to agree, but I'm not willing to look at the price tag for that one.” You joke, shrugging as you follow him around the store.

“Nonsense, I'm offering to pay.” He said, turning his nose up. “I'm getting this for you, I'll ask the salesperson for more sizes so you can try them on.” He said, turning to the salesperson doing just that.

The salesperson nods enthusiastically, bringing the dresses to the dressing rooms and ushering you in despite your protests. Minghao only smiles in amusement as the curtain hides your figure, he sits on the bench near the dressing rooms in silence, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

He hears the curtains roll open, it only takes a moment of him looking at you in the dress to take his breath away. It fits you perfectly, hugging your body deliciously. Minghao almost drops his phone onto his lap, his grip loosening, star-struck by your beauty.

“How does it look?” You ask, awkwardly fiddling with the expensive fabric of the dress, feeling a little too expensive to be on your body.

Minghao wordlessly stands from the bench, looking a little dazed, he turns to the salesperson and tells them, “We're getting the dress.” As he walks toward the cashier almost in a trance.

You're a little taken aback by his reaction, but nonetheless you change back into your regular clothes. As soon as you walk out of the dressing room Minghao Pushes you back in with more dresses.

“Please try these on.” He says, not having the strength to look you in the eyes. You comply.

It took you hours of trying on dresses and accessories to the point that you almost bought the store out. Minghao couldn't get enough of the mini-fashion show you were putting on for him, and it's not like the salespeople are complaining either.

You walk out of the first store with multiple bags in hand, you thought that was enough shopping for the whole year maybe, but no, Minghao pulls you into another store, and another, and another, all leaving with bags (multiple) of clothes.

It got so bad to the point that Minghao had to leave your bags in his car so you could free up your hands to buy more stuff.

You stopped trying to fathom the amount of money Minghao was spending on you, yes, he did buy items for himself too, but he looked much more satisfied to provide for you rather than procuring items for himself.

The car ride back home was filled with way too many ‘are you sure's and ‘you really didn't have to's. But Minghao was insistent on you keeping all the items he got for you.

“I'm being serious, you're a gorgeous woman, you deserve to be spoiled like a queen.” he said, turning to you while waiting at a red light, “You need to visit my studio in the clothes I got you, you'll fit right in with my paintings.” He smiles.

Your face flushes at his compliments, a bright and happy smile stretching across your face. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy with someone. To find joy in the company of another felt liberating, you felt like you deserved this.

Minghao drops you off at your place with your new clothes, helping you get them into your living room like a true gentleman.

“I'll see you next time, Y/n.” He said stopping at your doorstep, annd leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head, he took note of what your shampoo smelled like and left. Leaving you awestruck in your doorway as you watch his car drive off.

This studio has become so familiar to you, like a second home almost. Punching in the code was muscle memory at this point, the smell of drying paint and clay becoming a calming scent.

You smooth over the front of your dress, one that Minghao got you, as you enter his studio again. Shrugging off your heavier coat, the beginning of winter creeps closer as the trees lose the last of their leaves.

Minghao just got out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his paint-stained shirt and apron. He looks at you, the dress, the way it fits on you. And he smiles widely.

“Hey there gorgeous, what are you doing all the way there? You should be over there with the rest of the art.” He says cheekily.

You giggle as you enter the space more, stopping in front of him taking his extended hand and following it, giving him a twirl.

He simply adores the way the fabric flows and shapes around your curves and contours, your skin practically glowing with life.

He fights the urge to kiss you, succeeding for now.

He guides you onto the couch, a turntable sitting next to his stone tea tray on the coffee table. ”Oh? This is new.” You said when you noticed it.

“Oh that? I got it for when you come over. I got a few records too, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable while I brew us some tea.” He said, untying his apron to hang on an easel, turning his back to you and he started preparing tea like before.

His movements and practiced, you'd guess this tea ceremony is second nature to him, considering he always talks about it. This scene is safe, familiar, it's comfortable.

He does this whole song and dance again, you've seen him do this over and over again but you can't seem to get sick of it. It's like you're giving yourself excuses just to keep seeing him.

But they don't feel like excuses, not at all, they're just more reasons why you feel deeply, and so quickly for Minghao.

Again, the both of you talk about everything and anything under the sun, him walking you through all his latest pieces, him plans for new ones creativity vibrating through ever cell in his body.

You imagine him talking so passionately about the future, maybe even a future with you.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you’re holding onto Minghao’s shoulders for support,

and you lean up to kiss him.

Minghao fights the urge to kiss back, he fails.

His hands come up to cup the back of your head tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pouring all his emotions into the simple, gesture of affection.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from his cologne and the wind getting knocked from your lungs as soon as your lips met his. It was electrifying, finally feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close, yet so far from yours.

Oh, you wanted him, so, so badly.

He pulls away first, heaving from the intensity of the kiss, eyes in a daze. Meeting your eyes again, he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss.

This time he's really pressing into you seemingly drunk off of the feeling of his lips meeting yours. He's just a man at the end of the day, a weak, weak man in the face of paradise.

He came back to his senses once he felt the cool metal of your wedding ring on his neck. Jolting back, he pushed your shoulders back, creating a significant distance between the two of you.

“I, I think you should leave.” He said turning to hide in his studio bathroom to collect his thoughts.

You stood there puzzled, did he not feel the same way you did? But why did he kiss you, twice? Something isn't adding up.

But moreover, you can't ignore the painful sting this rejection gave you. You wanted him, did he not want you? What was the point of trying so hard to make you fall for him when he just decided to back down when he finally had you?

You gather your belongings and leave the studio, the door clicking to lock behind you. The ride back was suffocating, it felt like you left a part of yourself in that studio with Minghao. And you fear that this may be the last time you see him.

You haven’t spoken to Minghao in the weeks following the kiss, your nerves on fire every time you remember how his pillow lips felt so right on yours.

You're standing in front of the mural. The one where Hephestus caught Aphrodite, his wife, and Ares, her lover, having an affair and having sex on their marital bed.

It's funny, looking at this mural. You spent your last weeks wandering his gallery, searching for his shadow, but he always seems to evade you so easily. He's marked you like a bloodstain on a pristine white dress, lingering like fog on a cold autumn day.

Winter is still young, yet you feel cold. So, so cold.

As if your most desperate prayers were heard, Minghao practically materializes next to you.

“Hi. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you for the past few weeks. I'm a coward, a fool to run from you.” He said, both of you looking at the mural and not at each other.

Silence follows, you couldn't look at him, you couldn't speak to him. “Y/n I-”

“This isn't the place to talk about this.” You said coldly.

Minghao flinches a bit, not used to how icy your voice was. It usually greets him so warmly, so lovingly.

“Let's go out to drink, there's a bar that's walking distance from here, if you'd like go go with me. I have too many things to say to you, too many thoughts left unsaid. You deserve to hear them, at least.” He said, remorseful.

You really couldn't find it in yourself to stay mad at him. So you agree to walk with him.

The walk to the bar is silent, unlike your previous walks. You're so far from him, you even refused to hold onto his arm like you usually do.

It's early winter yet Minghao is sweating bullets, he's almost vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. His nerves are all over the place, he's acting so out of character, nothing like the calm, cool, collected Minghao you've come to know over the past few months.

He takes a deep breathe before you both enter the bar.

A few drinks in and you’re already tipsy, “You know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.” You drunkenly slurred, “This novel I’ve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. He’s a giant pain in the ass-!”

Minghao snorts at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, “Your husband is a fucking dick! Your work is amazing. If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writer’s block, you know, inspire you.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, “Thank youuuu hao bear~ you’re the best-!” You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side. You’ve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.

“Hao bear? That’s new, you’ve only known me for- what? 3 months? You’re already calling me nicknames!” He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, “I should give you a nickname too… Starlight, how does that sound?” At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.

This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.

“Starlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.” You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.

“Let’s move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work. We can head to my place to settle down for a bit.” There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Arriving at Minghao’s place, you take a quick look around his apartment. Everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues making the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, “Hao, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~” You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.

“Thanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.” He passionately talks about them, “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.” He says, rummaging through his fridge.

“Oh, just water, please.” You say you have a feeling that you need to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.

He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table. It’s the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldn’t tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.

“So, let’s talk about this book that you’ve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what it’s about?” He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adam’s apple bobbing from his drink.

Bro’s so majestic.

“Well, it’s about an artist who’s losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. It’s a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-”

“Give me a percentage of how much of it is smut.” Minghao interrupts you,

“Like… 75 percent?” He snorts at this, “Anyway, I’ve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,” You take a swig of your water, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex life’s been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods and-”

Minghao interrupts you again, “And he doesn’t fuck you right, does he?”

The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Minghao looks at you. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he wanted you, but he never acted in any inappropriate way. He never makes you uncomfortable.

This was no exception. The swirling in your stomach wasn’t because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.

“No, no he doesn’t.”

He leans in, kissing you. This time he's not rushing, no more pushing and pulling, no more things left unsaid. He wants you, he'll have you. That was a promise.

He lifts you from the couch, lips never parting as he carries you to his bedroom, peeling each other's clothes, bumping into walls and furniture. But you couldn't care less, you were lost in each other's embrace and you can't think of another place you'd rather be.

Half-naked on Minghao’s bed, who, need you be reminded, was not your husband.

His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck. You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.

“How would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?” He asks, clearly getting off on the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasn’t your husband.

“I hope he’d be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.” You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.

Minghao gently pulls away from you from that, “What?” he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, “Sorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but… I’m angry at him.” He says, avoiding your eyes.

“I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before. It fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?” He said anger gradually filling his voice. His hand reaches for your face when your eyes meet, thumbs pressing down on your cheekbone. The controlled and purposeful movement reminds you just how pliable you are under his touch. He sculpted you into what he wanted you to be; beautiful, strong, unashamed.

You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, “Kiss me, Minghao.”

And he did.

His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close. You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Minghao’s tongue was exploring it.

At that moment, you knew you were gone.

Minghao pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke. At that moment, Minghao was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over like he couldn’t stop tasting your lips even if he tried. A sweet ambrosia, too saccharine to stop. He’s become addicted to your lips molding onto his like sickly sweet honey sticking to his lips.

Out of breath, he grabs hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him. He reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it. He cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.

Placing both of your hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze. Minghao notices this and his gaze darkens, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp leaves you as you started to grind harder against Minghao.

His nails started to dig into your hips, his own desperately grinding up against you for more friction. Soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.

“God, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.” He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.

“Right, you still need to cum inside of me.” You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this.

“Fuck, you make me want to keep you forever,” taking one of your hands and placing a kiss on your palm.

He lifts his hips only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying them off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you lean down to kiss him again.

When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two. You took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.

Minghao hisses, “Fuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.” he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.

“God, Minghao, fuck I need you inside me.” You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips up to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking on the thick girth. You throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,” He moans, he’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal he’s being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, “Let me keep you forever, please, don’t make me beg, run away with me.”

You openly gape at him from this, You’d be a fool to accept this, especially since you’ve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.

“Take me with you, anywhere you want to go. I’m yours, please take me.” You say desperately. You’ve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.

Minghao abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin. You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that you’re doing this to him, and only you.

You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin. Your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Minghao isn’t far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too. He’s so close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.

“Minghao I’m gonna cum-!” you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time. You swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.

“Did you mean that?” You ask breathlessly, “When you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, I meant it word for word. Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.” He smiles at you.

In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger with his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasn’t surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Minghao.

Still, time was the ultimate truthteller.

Your husband found out about your High Infidelity around the middle of your divorce proceedings, and in a rage, he threw you and all your belongings out onto the driveway. In the middle of winter rain.

The rain soaked into your skin, cold and icy piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

You finished your book, it received critical acclaim and it was a New York Times Best-Seller.

And you got to marry Minghao, the love of your life. Who you were happily married to until the both of you grew old.

FIN.

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