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beyondallodds · 1 month ago

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𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗘! ｜ 𝗝𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗦 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥.

[ 𝗦 ] • 𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ｜ in which James then realizes as to why he kept pursuing Lily for so long despite her constant rejection; he finds that it's not because he was in love with her, more so that it was due to his pride that he never faltered.

[ 𝗪 ] • 𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ｜ [ third ] person's point of view, profanity, misunderstandings, false assumptions, realization, self-doubt, presumed one-sided attraction; overall fluff!

[ 𝗔 ] • 𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲｜ English isn't my first language, I'm so sorry!

Despite the odds of getting an assigned seat near the literal Lily Evans, his eyes stray to the person that sat a few seats away from her.

Unbeknownst to the young man, he has been unable to move his attention away from you since the beginning of class – however, the other Marauders most certainly did.

His eyes were fully immersed in your frame, his elbow firmly propped up on the desk as he leans his cheek against his fist.

Sirius slid closer to James, careful to not arouse attention from their professor as he discreetly nudged James' side, causing him to painfully grit his teeth before snapping his head at him.

"what?!" James whisper-yelled at Sirius, which made the corners of his lips twitch into a smile that he could no longer push down.

Sirius grinned at him, an apparent twinkle in his eyes as he 'discreetly' wiggled his brows. "you couldn't even be more obvious if you tried."

"Actually, he could." at that, both males jumped back in fright – almost squealing out in fear of the sudden voice that joined their conversation.

Remus suddenly appeared before them, alerting the both of them of his presence from behind their assigned seats.

"what the– when did you even get here?!" Sirius squeaked out, hand tightly gripping his shirt in fright as he wheezed.

Remus scrunched up his nose in slight offense, softly bonking Sirius' head with a rolled parchment, "I've been here since the beginning of class."

James finally calms, composing himself before then giving Remus a lopsided grin, "sorry... I– we were just too distracted."

Remus blankly stared at him, awkwardly looking around before nodding in acceptance, "yeah, I can... I can see that."

"Why are you all stalking someone?"

"AH!"

Sirius and James jumped back against their seats once more, loudly yelping in fright – which caught the professor's attention, yet he merely gave them a warning glare before going back to his lecture.

Sirius and James' head snapped towards where the voice came from, which they soon found to be Peter that came from behind the two, who was blinking rather innocently at them as he awaited for their response.

James heavily breathed as he widely stared up at Peter, who sat next to Remus, visibly wheezing as he tried to calm his speedily beating heart.

"I am... I am not... stalking anyone!" James weakly hissed out in defense between harsh breaths, hand tightly clutching his chest.

Sirius, despite still panting to rid himself from the previous shock, breathlessly chuckled at his defense.

"That's the biggest lie of the century, Prongs..."

James scrunched up his nose with a grin, playfully pushing Sirius back with a small laugh. "oh, quit it."

Remus and Peter chuckled at their playful display, softly grinning at the two before Remus shakes his head with a simple smile.

"don't suppose that you've already given up on Lily?" Remus curiously asks, smile never lifting from his face.

James then shook his head, looking rather confused, "no, no... what are you even talking about?"

Remus and Peter shared a look, simultaneously turning back to him with quirked brows.

"I don't know if you noticed, but you weren't looking at Lily." Peter habitually tapped his desk with the tip of his quill, awkwardly looking anywhere except for James' baffled expression.

"what?" James eyes widened in disbelief before he immediately covered it up with an unbelievable cough, "I wasn't looking at anyone."

"well, clearly, you were looking at someone–"

"You four, in the back! Pray tell, what might be so interesting that you must interrupt our lesson?" The professor yelled out quite abruptly, his wearied expression deepening into a frown of disapproval.

Approaching the startled students' that found themselves frozen up, desks with much displeasure, he then abruptly stopped in his tracks.

With great displeasure, he then trudged near the horrified males before promptly being halted.

"Professor, I believe they were just conversing about the task you had given us. They hadn't been talking about anything else," in an apparent attempt to defuse a tense situation for the remainder of the class, you startlingly covered up.

Fearing for their lives, the four men held their breath.

The professor, in clear need of some rest rather than having to deal with impassioned students, he then listlessly relented — walking back to the board with an irritated hiss of a sigh trailing off his lips.

James was just strolling through the halls of Hogwarts before he then caught sight of you, which immediately brought a wide smile to his face.

"[ n / n ]!" James called out with an excited wave, the bright grin that overtook his features widening even further when you waved back.

You smile, pushing your hair back to move it away from your face as he ran towards you in a jogging pace – yet, it was still notable that he had an excited bounce in his steps.

"sup, lover boy." you casually greet him, somehow making his smile grow larger as he walked in a steady pace with you.

James nervously chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as he stuffed his sweating hand into his pocket. "you're... really still gonna keep calling me that, huh?"

You jabbed a finger to his chest, grinning in a joking manner, "not my fault that you keep chasing after that Evans girl."

James laughed even more nervously, feeling rather awkward due to the sudden topic, "right, right... that's the reason why you call me that."

James awkwardly coughed, pulling at his tie to lessen the sweat that kept sliding down his neck.

You quirked a brow at him, smirking the slightest bit at his nervous attitude, "of course. what other reasons are there?"

James merely shrugged his shoulder, not finding any need to respond to that if he were truly being honest with himself.

"so, uh... any plans this weekend?" James then asks of you rather anxiously, might I add; though, he found there to be no reason.

"no, no. not at all." a teasing grin then appeared on your face, cheeky it even appeared to be – amused by his poorly covered up nervousness, though you weren't sure what was the cause of it.

"why? Evans still hasn't taken you up on those dates you keep promising her?"

"haha– yeah, yeah. you caught me." quite nervously, James began to rub his nape, feeling a tad bit awkward.

It was rather difficult on James' part as an uncomfortable awkward pause then occurred in the middle of your conversation, which often happened when it came to the oh-so close proximity James tend to have with you.

"so, uh... are you available for Hogsmeade then? y'know, since it... only happens every two months or so." James soon asked, unable to walk alongside you with such an awkward air surrounding the both of you.

Beginning off your response with a bit of a hum, you tilt your head to the side – feeling rather curious of his intentions as it wasn't often he personally invited you to an outing.

"I don't know... are you only asking me because Evans refused to go out with you?" awfully teasing, you then grinned at him, a tad bit expectant as you watched him begin to stammer at the assumption.

Though you had meant to initially come off as playful, James seemed to think otherwise as he panicked over what you assumed his invitation may have been.

"What– that's not what I meant at all! I just wanted, uh, to have fun with you. Is it really that hard to believe?" a tad nervous, James began to chuckle lightly when he finally took note of the teasing underlying tone you used.

Finding hilarity at the sight of him turning into a nervous wreck, a bit of a laugh was pulled out of you before you shook your head in amusement.

"No, I was just kidding. I'd like to–"

Rather sudden, the booming sound of the Hogwarts bell then rang through the corridors – inevitably putting your interaction into a halt.

Having recovered from the interruption, you then turned to him with a snicker, "well, that's my cue... anyways, yeah. I think I'm free this weekend."

"Cool! Yeah, yeah... see ya! see you..." James waved you farewell, watching your departing figure until you've left his line of vision – assuring that you've reached your destination before his own.

Awkwardly, he pursed his lips after having caught on to his rather odd staring, one that will most definitely forever be engraved into his memories as a moment of embarrassment.

Merlin, what was happening to him?

Long after classes had ended, after having long since finished assigned tasks; the Marauders find themselves prattling over a variety of subjects, one of which became their main topic of the evening.

"Prongs, as much as it's a good thing for you to move on, I don't think it would be a good idea to move on... with [ name ]." Remus slowly began, making James frown.

"and, uh, why?" James reluctantly asks, pondering over what he just might say.

"I mean, [ name ]'s a free spirit – like you, sure, but I don't really think that..." Remus pauses, not quite wishing to speak out about his opinions.

"[ name ] rarely comes with us when it comes to our pranks and stuff, don't you think you should take in the possibility of them... you know, not romantically seeing you in that way if they think you're... childish?" Sirius continues for him, finally grasping what he had in mind.

Truly, Sirius didn't mean it in an offending way, he just wanted to save James from going through the high possibility of getting brutally rejected once more if he truly believed he moved on from Lily.

James frowns deeper at that, which only Peter seemingly noticed.

"well, they scold us sometimes, but I don't think they outright hate our 'childish' pranks. I might even say they enjoy it." Peter nervously says, hoping to bring back a bit of light into James' eyes, which visibly dimmed even further.

"we–" Sirius began, nudging Remus's side as he referred to the both of them – which received a pained grunt from the latter.

"–just think that we all should be aware of the fact that there's a high possibility of [ name ] rejecting you because they'd think you're using them as a rebound." at that, James practically blanched at such assumption.

"what? I'd never! why would they even assume that? I'm not that much of a prick!" James defensively retorted, feeling much offended.

"It has little to do with your personality and more so.. your reputation." In hopes of lessening the impact of the confrontation they were hoping on achieving, Remus continued on with an awfully tense smile.

"They're an awfully honest person. And seeing that you're.. you've pinned for Lily an ordeal lot of time now," Peter peered from the shoulder of Remus, throat scratchy with the feel of his heart hammering against his chest.

This already felt as though it wouldn't go quite well.

A brief laugh left James, having calmed his nerves with the intent of shaking off the concerned thoughts of his friends – tender smile eased on his face.

"Who says I'm still not pinning over Lily?" A concerning crack held within his tone was much apparent despite the insistence of James.

"You know, I feel quite crossed with you, Prongs," Sirius then began.

Their question concerning James's rather abrupt change of attitude had struck a chord within him.

"It's going to be... al-right."

There James stiffly stood in the great hall; urged by his friends to pursue Lily once more due to their fear of him getting blatantly rejected by their best friend, which they feared might result of her leaving their friend group.

Nervous, he felt. James was suffering through conflicting feelings whilst trying to organize his perplexing thoughts.

Sirius nudged his side, handing him a flower of sorts, "you know we can't have you accidentally making [ name ] run away from us. this is just a precaution."

James sighs in dismay, accepting the flower as he mindlessly followed the other Marauders to their table despite wishing to run away.

Truly, James didn't understand what issue the other three had with him taking the chance to move on from someone who barely even showed interest in him.

It was understandable for them to fear losing their connection with you, yet James couldn't help but feel as though he was the reason why they didn't agree on the idea of asking you out.

Perhaps they knew something, perhaps it was even possible that you had a secret lover of sorts and he never stood a chance in the first place.

Perhaps James was just the problem in general; far too childish for your specific type, possibly eliminating any chances he could've ever had with you.

James' eyes hesitantly looks around, partly believing that he shouldn't have allowed himself to get dragged off by his friends without first organizing his own thoughts.

Now, he had to recount the times he unrelentingly asked out Evans without care of how he came off to her – which he was sure to happen once again.

However, the only reason why James agreed on trying to pursue Lily once more was because he couldn't even understand his own feelings.

He wasn't quite sure if he truly even moved on from Lily or if it was merely a temporary distraction from her.

Which James believes to be one of the many reasons as to why the other three didn't think it would be a good idea to 'rashly' ask you out.

Remus lightly tugs on James' robe, discreetly pointing at a familiar girl that sat among her friends in the Gryffindor table, "there she is!" Remus whispered in his ear.

James nervously gulps down his nerves before tidying up his uniform, tightly gripping the single flower in hand.

Here goes nothing.

Continuously tapping his foot underneath the table, James frustratedly fiddled with his thumbs as he stared hard at his food – gritting his teeth in worry as his eye twitched.

Frustrated, he now feels. Dare James even say he felt anxious as his eyes trailed over to the redhead that sat a few feet away from him.

Now, James ponders over how he'd go about this.

Perhaps James should resume his usual unrelenting and rather arrogant attitude, perhaps even act a bit more romantic than what's usually expected of him.

James' eyes trailed over to the flower he was twirling in his hands, causing him to heavily sigh.

Remus frowns in worry, elbow lightly nudging his arm to get his attention away from the poor flower.

"Prongs, don't worry. nothing wrong's going to happen, you've done this before." yet, even so, Remus knew that the chances of James possibly messing up in some way or form was heightening by the minutes that passed spent wastefully.

James gave a disgruntled grunt, eyes having yet to tear away from the flower held loosely in his hands, "why do I have to do this again?"

"because you might fuck it up with [ name ], and if you did fuck it up–" Sirius merely shrugged, expression much notably blank – pausing for dramatics before then continuing; “who knows.”

Visibly deflating, James felt even more disheartened by such implication – grip tightening around the fragile stem of the flower; just how bad did they think he could've possibly messed up?

Even though their concerns were meant to be as such, concerns that should've pushed him on, he felt incredibly discouraged.

Though, with the comforting hand Remus laid on his shoulder, alongside the daring looks Sirius and Peter sent him – his competitive side chose to take on their challenge, not seeing the upcoming events as an issue at all.

So, with a pretend confident expression, he finally abruptly stood from the comforts of his seat – finally gaining the pretense courage needed to act upon what was needed to be done.

An obligation, this felt to be.

Yet, he much feared what would come to be between the two of you if he were to actually take accountability for his conflicting feelings – much more than he feared the crowd that awaited for his mischiefs to come into play.

With a shaky breath, James' eyes drifted to the redhead that sat a few seats away from the Marauders, his grasp on the flower tightening.

He could do this. He could do this.

James felt himself awaken of sorts when the entire great hall quieted down, a few snickers shared amongst his peers as his cocky demeanor faltered while he stood on the Gryffindor house's dinning table.

Embarrassed, he felt. That must've been a first after all those years he spent terrorizing most students of Hogwarts for a laugh – a feeling James had never felt even when he was caught doing dangerous acts that were mostly pranks.

From the corner of James' eyes, he found you in the crowd of gossiping students, catching the curious and rather amused look you threw at him – which made his thoughts scatter even more.

Part of James wondered whether or not you actually believed that he was retaking his nonexistent chances with Lily, wholly believing that, perhaps, you had no chance with him.

Perhaps the part of him wishing that you'd gaze upon them in jealousy was nothing but wishful thinking.

Perhaps, he finally came to terms that he merely continued pursuing Lily because he wanted to receive a certain look from you.

Yet, clearly, James wouldn't be getting it any time soon.

With a pained gulp, James abruptly backed away from Lily as he tightly gripping his uniform, eyes never meeting Lily's own worried ones.

I can't do this, James could only think to himself before he immediately left the great hall, away from the prying eyes of his schoolmates.

Soon after he left, laughter began to erupt from a handful of students, with a few remaining beginning to whisper about his abrupt exit.

The other Marauders shared looks of worry before then following after him. Questioning looks were thrown at them, yet they paid it no mind.

Meanwhile, as your peers chattered amongst themselves, you remained seated with a rather calculating expression, which was soon replaced with an amused smirk of sorts.

James laid sprawled over his bed with numerous pillows stacked up to create a comforting barricade around him, where he then proceeded to bury himself in. The doors were even locked to disable anyone from entering.

Pride, he now knew. That must've been what James had initially felt in the first place. The significant drain of his self-esteem. That must've been what James had been trying to replenish through the years by relentlessly pursuing Lily.

Sudden hurried knocks were banged on the door, which made James groan before he then covered his face with a pillow.

"James! open the door!" he heard Sirius worriedly yell from outside the dorm, which made James groan even louder as he squirmed around in an attempt to block of his yells.

"James, come on... we just want to talk to you." James then heard Remus calmly say, tone laced with anxiousness as Sirius repeatedly banged against the door.

"James Fleamont Potter, I swear, if you don't open this damn door – I will break it down!"

"no, get out..." James' muffled voice weakly replied, face still stuffed with a pillow as he rolled to his side.

Clearly, his voice was far too quiet as Sirius' knocking hadn't relented and even began to get louder soon after.

James gritted his teeth, burying himself further into the stack of pillows before he suddenly heard an explosive blast.

He hastily sat up in a panic before immediately calming at the sight of Sirius exaggeratedly panting after having exploded the hinges off the door with a spell.

James soon fell right back against his bed in an ungraceful manner, arm reaching out to cover his face with a pillow once more.

"just leave me alone..."

With much baffling speed, Sirius pried off the pillows that acted as a barrier around himself – leaving him groaning in annoyance, dreading the confrontation that was about to take place.

"James, what the hell happened out there?" though that came off in a criticizing manner, Sirius made it much apparent that he was merely worried about him.

Remus seated himself near James' curled legs, gently stroking one of them in a comforting manner.

All while Peter cautiously neared them, yet he kept his distance with his forehead creased in worry, frown kept in place.

Worried he may be, Sirius have become less lenient with James' constant changes in mood – he knew plenty of those conflicting thoughts could get to a person, but he fears that this may just be James' breaking point.

"That never happened before," Sirius began with note as his tone quieted down in fear of further jolting the man, his hand reaching over the blanket sprawled over James, pulling it up his body to provide a bit more comfort.

James began fidgeting from within the loose blanket, hands clasped together before he released a shakey sigh that appeared rather pained.

With much exhaustive effort, James rose from the bed before leaning back against the stack of pillows.

"Yeah.. that.." he took a strenuous swallow of saliva upon feeling an inch in his throat, "never happened before."

James then raised his head with much unswerving determination that utterly baffled the others, his brows deeply furrowed as a grin graced his cheeks.

"guys.. I think I'm in love."

The breathless tone had silenced the few in mere seconds, the room being uncomfortably empty yet filled with much rushing thoughts of its occupants.

"You've said that before, Prongs." win the beat of the silence, and with much confusion apparent, Sirius had risen his arms – finding little qualms of concerning himself with the sudden yet often proclamation of his friend.

"I know! I know.. but this time, it's different, you know?" Ever so joyous, a notable grin began spreading across the man's face; his cheeks flushing as he released a breathy laugh.

"It felt so wrong earlier.. with Lily, I mean."

"Maybe.. I've been wasting my time with the wrong girl, afterall," James meekly stated with little hopes of them having heard him, casting a forlorn glance to the side.

A rather thoughtful yet undeniably pitiful look was shared among the group, an audible brief sigh erupting from within the peace.

James had felt his breath hitch upon feeling a sudden hand firmly placed over his sagging shoulder, and with much utter unwavering support, Remus had merely shared a tender smile with him.

"Then do what you gotta do,"

James snapped his head upwards with great shock, finding the other two providing the most supportive grins one could make.

A brief smile of relief left him, "okay."

With a sway of your hips, you strutted into the room with no care apparent in your features due to the shades covering your eyes, catching the eyes of those in your surrounding.

With your hands kept inside your pocket, posture giving off the feel of arrogance, and head thrown back in an uncaring manner – many would even say that you were simply a rich person with no care of anyone around you.

Yet even so, James eyes couldn't leave you at all. By no means did he think that he came off as a creep, but the other Marauders sure thought so.

"i'm getting slightly disturbed." Sirius awkwardly whispered to the other two, his hand continuously poking his food as his eyes never left James.

"James' giving heart eyes to [ name ], he never gave heart eyes to Lily!" Peter harshly whispered to the other two, his eyes unblinking as it went back in forth between you and James.

Remus softly exhales, biting the insides of his cheek as he turned away from the others, "maybe we should just let him be... I mean, I honestly think he actually does like them."

"Well, what do you suppose we do? What if he messes up with [ name ]? What if he drags us into that mess?" Peter then relentlessly questioned, fearing the outcome the plausible path they're pushing James to take.

Peter then abruptly leans forward – his face unbearably close to Remus' own, "they'll never talk to us ever again if he ruins everything between them!"

"You don't actually think that James would drag us into his love life, right?" Remus felt bothered by the fact that they were doubtful of James' capabilities, even if he had failed a few dozen times.

"uh, well–"

With much apparent sarcasm, Sirius then jabbed a finger at Lily's direction for emphasis – dramatically gesturing towards her to further prove his unstated point.

Briefly reminded of James' persistent pursue of the redhead, the oddity of his former infatuation towards Lily Evans, Remus merely pursed his lips.

"Okay, but he involved the entire school with that one, she doesn't count."

Having thrown on the invisibility cloak over himself, he had began to follow you around as you went about your usual schedule throughout the day.

He had been doing so for the past couple of days, the other Marauders had even commented about how lucky James seemed to have been as you've yet to even notice his suspicious acts.

Cheeks heavily flushed, he clumsily hid behind the wall to hide from your view when you had began to look around.

In a cautious manner, James slowly peaked behind the wall before then sighing in relief when you began to walk away without having noticed him.

He then slowly began to sit down with his back against the wall, shoving off the invisibility cloak as he hastily wiped away the sweat that had began forming on his neck before then loosening his tie.

Bloody hell, he felt like a creep.

James began to wonder as to how you have yet to take notice of his constant presence around you, practically stalking you whenever you were near like some sort of obsessed predator.

Depressingly, he sighed. James knew that if you had known about his tendencies to creep around you, you would've beaten him with a flying broom by then.

He fears that if you knew, it would lessen his chances of receiving a positive reply when he finally gets the courage to ask you out.

The thought of it all was sending painful shivers of fear down his spine.

Though, James find himself not being able to blame the hypothetical version of you – because if he knew someone was stalking him, he would also beat that same person with a broom.

He released a disgruntled groan, contemplating on what his presumably next step should be.

There were plenty of possibilities to take into account, many of which his paranoia have already partially corrupted with the bizarrest of insecure thoughts.

James weighed on the option to perhaps casually converse with you about his particular dilemma in an equally casual manner instead of downright confessing, as if referring to someone else.

However, this then led him to fearing that he just might accidentally utter out a confession, which he would then have to counter with a pretentious cover before then pretending that he had just pulled a harmless prank.

Which he fears that it just might force you to push down your hypothetical feelings for him – which meant he'd lose all his hypothetical chances altogether.

A mess, James felt himself to be. Hair disheveled as his hand went through the twisted tangles from within his curls, chest heaving ever so slightly as he thought over his next move.

One that would preferably avoid the same reactions he often received from Lily when he genuinely pursued her from before.

Releasing a soft sigh, arguably looking much stressed as ever, James then sluggishly raised his head – taking a moment to process what was currently happening.

Soon turning rigid after a moment passed, a sudden jolt coursed through his entire being.

"AHH—"

Scrambling to his feet in a frantic manner, a nervous laugh then left him as he rushed to boot away the invisibility cloak behind him.

Backing up against the wall, James leaned against it with his arms crossed in hopes to not having come off as bizarre and instead feigned a suave stance.

Though known for being charismatic, he wasn't one to succeed in fooling those he felt attracted to – especially not one who was as observant as you.

Standing before him, there you were with your posture looking rather lax with a bit of a teasing grin stretched across your face.

Paying no mind to his rather skittish behavior, you further neared his personal space to keep as much little distance between the both of you.

"H-hey, [ name ]! What's, uh... what's got you here?"

"What's got me here in the halls... near divination class?"

You've considered the probability that he could barely function, so much so that he failed to take notice of the fact that classes have long since ended, giving few reason for you to near any classrooms.

James then scrambled a response, realizing he might possibly be discovered for his somewhat strange behavior — hoping to prolong a much-needed diversion to avoid blurting out his long-awaited inquiry. "Oh! right, right..."

However, you cared little for continuous pleasantries and small talk, "But what are you doing here?"

Ever expected, you awaited an immediate response to your question and was highly irritated by his current lack of confidence.

"A date!" unexpectedly, James practically squeaked out as his pulse raced — choking back a pained groan. "I want to take you to Hogsmeade… o-on a date!"

James's shoulders stiffened with bated breath; he could almost feel a frown set over his face.

"A date, it is, then."

"Huh! A-a date? A date..."

Ever so slowly, a genuine grin then starts to stretch across his face at the revelation – paying little mind as you made your way off, his mind then drifting.

"Huh... a date. heh..."

©𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙒𝙊𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙎 – reposting, editing, and plagiarism (whether it be in another website or any other) is strictly prohibited. ⚠︎

#│ ‪‪ ❤︎‬ │ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗙𝗜𝗖 #harry potter #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #james potter x reader #first fanfic #unnamed characters #unnamed professors #second pov #3rd pov #james potter x lily evans #james potter x you

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toomanyfandoms04 · 2 months ago

Text

To Be Loved (Yoonho Baek x Reader) 4

Under 18 and ageless blogs DNI.

Trigger Warnings: Alcohol consumption (responsibly), Weird Creep, and Baek's Knot

A/N: Hehehehe

Chapter 4

The restaurant was a short drive from the hotel. The outside of the building was cast in bright lights to attract customers. BRUNOS was in bright orange against the red brick of the building.

The host lead you both to your table, Shane, the guard with dark hair, stands outside the restaurant and Stanley stays against the nearest wall to your table. The lighting is dim, lights hang low over the tables. Quiet classical music plays in the background.

Mr. Baek pulls out your chair before sitting across from you, a table for two. Your boss is dressed in simple black slacks, a white shirt and a black tie. You note his lack of a jacket.

Maybe his hunter abilities make his body temperature run hot?

A young woman approaches your table, clothing all black, her blonde hair held back with a headband.

“Hello, welcome to Brunos. Can I start you off with a drink?” Her notepad is ready to take your order.

You and Baek lock eyes before looking at the menu.

“I’ll have your strongest liquor, straight.” Baek huffs.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have a glass of water, with lemon. Um, what wine do you have?” You look up to the blonde woman as she flips through her notepad.

“We have over 100 choices of wine. Do you prefer white, red, or rose?” Your eyes grow wide at the comment.

What type of place did Mr. Baek choose?

“Rose is my go to.”

“We have a pink Moscato, peach Moscato-“

“I’ll try the peach Moscato please!” Peaches were your absolute favorite fruit growing up. You hope the wine will do it justice.

“Absolutely. Will this be together or separate?”

“Together.” Mr. Baek interjects, sending you a look so that you don’t argue with him.

It’s not like I could pay for myself anyway.

“Amazing. My name is Nicole. Don’t yell if you need me.” She walks away, leaving you both in silence.

Your eyes are on the menu, not aware of your boss taking in your figure.

His eyes trail down from your hair to your face. Your makeup that you applied accentuates the color of your eyes, your lipstick makes your lips look plump and juicy.

He looks to your neck where your fragrant aroma has been flooding his nose. Your black dress accentuates your cleavage.

Baek stops his thoughts from wondering, noting something else about you.

Your eyes look happy again. Yes, he knows you applied makeup, but your iris’ are shining again. You’re not slouching your shoulders either, a noticeable difference from the airport.

Baek heard you on the phone with Jean before he knocked on your door. Maybe she cheered you up over the situation with your boyfriend.

“What are you thinking about getting?” You look up, catching your boss already looking at you.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Smooth recovery. Baek internally rolls his eyes.

I can’t keep ogling over my assistant.

“Oh, I was thinking of the seafood sampler! Cooked oysters, sea scallops, and lobster over a lemon risotto.” You read the items off the menu, giving Baek a chance to glance over the menu and to pick a random item.

“The…” Baek hesitates on the pronunciation of the item. “It’s the last one of the front of the menu. How do you pronounce that?”

“Filet mignon?”

“Yeah, that one. I’ll get that.”

“You do realize it comes with two orders of vegetables, right?” Baek sighs, reading through his choice.

“I’ll try something new tonight.” He looks up at your knowing face.

Baek hates vegetables. Especially in their whole form.

“No, you’re not.” You call your boss on his bluff.

“I will. In fact, I’ll get the asparagus and the sautéed spinach.” You look at your boss, unimpressed.

The last time you both ate a meal together; it was after 12 hours of meetings following a few unsuccessful raids. The ramen place you went to wasn’t customizable, you chose your broth and got what you got. You ordered the miso base, your boss ordered the pork base.

Your bowl was clean, your boss left all of the veggies in the bowl.

“You’re going to go hungry if you don’t get something else. Lets order a starter too.”

Once Nicole returns with your drinks, she takes your orders before reappearing with your appetizers.

Braised ribs with a mushroom sauce sit in front of Baek as the fresh break basket sits in front of you.

You split the appetizers, enjoying the comfortable silence as the food settles in your stomachs.

Soon, your meals arrive, you glass of wine and Baek’s bar glass stays full. The conversation flows from both of you, the alcohol easing your jaws.

“The convention opens at 8 tomorrow, its in the center attached to the hotel. Plan on being ready around 7:30.” Baek finishes off his steak, the spinach and asparagus growing cold on his plate.

“Of course. Is there a dress code?”

“Comfortable shoes.”

“Understood.” You pull out your phone and set your alarm for 6:00 in the morning. At the rate you’re drinking, when you end up in your bed you will fall asleep immediately.

Baek says your name, pulling your attention back to your boss.

“I saw the hotel has a hot tub. Would you like to join me when we get back?” You notice his face is slightly flush.

Probably from the alcohol.

“Sure! I’m glad I remembered to bring a bikini.” You smile falters as you remember which bikini you packed.

Baek asks for Nicole and gets your bill, along with the rest of your wine.

Once Nicole walks away with her big tip, Baek stands up and helps you out of your own chair. He offers his arm and escorts you through the restaurant and in to the waiting car.

Returning to the hotel, you both move to your separate rooms and get changed.

You are very happy to have packed a bikini and cover up with you. You did pack in preparation for anything.

You remember last wearing this bikini in the states, back when you first met Logan.

You scoff to yourself and strip from your clothes.

The bikini is tan with black lace accents. You made sure to match the bikini material to your own skin tone.

A thought crosses your head. Your bikini might be too revealing to wear around your boss. On the other hand, you didn’t pack any other options, so you were stuck with this one.

Moving to the bathroom, you look at yourself in the mirror.

You adjust the material of your top, noticing your breasts have shrunk since you last wore this bikini.

Frowning, you turn to the side for further inspection. The weight of your breats spill out slightly from the bottom cups.

You adjust the strings around your neck to be longer, giving you at least a smidge more modesty.

After washing your face, you slide on your plain coverup, slip on sandals, and step out of your room

Your boss is walking down the hallway towards you, a boyish grin on his face. In his hands is your half empty bottle of wine, and a wine glass.

“You trying to keep me drunk?” You tease, looping your arm with his extended elbow.

“It’s the first time in a long time that I can see you’re genuinely happy. I’d like to see it for as long as possible tonight.” Your heart is touched by is words.

Other than Jean, Mr. Baek has been the only person to show that he cares about you through his words and actions.

“I’d like that too.” You both exit the elevator and walk through the lobby.

You hum along with the song playing through the speakers.

“What’s this one called?” Baek asks as he guides you both to the pool room.

“Sailor Song by Gigi Peres. I think it’s a beautiful song.” You resume humming as Baek opens the door for you to enter.

You wish for a love to find you like the one Gigi is singing about. A passionate love, where they can’t stand to be away from another for too long.

The pool room is humid and to your surprise, does not smell of chlorine.

Three of the 4 walls are glass and show the busy world. The pool is a nice size, gradually sloping from a shallow to deep end.

The hot tub that Baek was so interested in trying was tucked into the glass corner of the room. Chairs and tables are spread throughout the area.

You’re a little surprised that it’s just the both of you here. It’s not that late, the sun is set but the time is only 8:30 pm.

You pour yourself a glass of the Peach Moscato before taking off your coverup.

You don’t realize your face turns sour as you look at your reflection in the windows.

“Will you be joining me?” Shaken from your thoughts, you turn to see Baek standing in the hot tub. His shirt is off, his hand outstretched, waiting to assist you into the hot tub.

Heat rises to your face, internally scoffing at yourself for getting excited over the washboard abs of your boss.

The same torso and arms you’ve seen flex and shine millions of times.

“Of course,” you take his extended hand and gently step into the hot water.

You ease your body into the hot water. Baek shifts away from you, allowing a comfortable space between you both.

With the cold glass of wine, in your hand, the jets kick on. The pressurized water hits your lower back.

You sigh and take a sip of your third glass, relaxing into the steaming water. The hum of the water pump resonates through the glass room. The interstate can be seen from your view. The headlights in the distance catch your gaze. You feel Baek shifting beside you, you’re too relaxed to be concerned.

This is what you needed. The peaceful serenity, the calming atmosphere, and the welcomed company.

Yoonho Baek’s heart hadn’t stopped racing since he asked you to join him at the restaurant. His heart continued to soar when you rid yourself of your coverup.

The black lace of your bikini looked eerily similar to lingerie. The back of his mind wondered if you wore that on purpose.

He sensed your distaste for the material, Baek couldn’t understand why.

You were beautiful.

The sigh that you let out went straight to Baek’s cock. He curses his hot blood as he shifts to ease his discomfort.

I shouldn’t be feeling this way. She is my employee. I am her boss.

Baek watched your every move. The way you brough the glass to your plump lips and took generous sips. Your shoulders relaxed with every passing moment.

His eyes moved down to the slowing movement of your chest. He watched as the bubbles created by the jets comes to rest on your breasts.

Both of your heads snap to the door as it opens, two American Men enter the room with a case of beer in hand.

“You two min if we join you?” You shake your head and take another sip from your dwindling glass.

“We don’t mind. Yous can join us!” You wave them over, shifting on your knees and turning to refill your glass.

Baek’s hand hovers over your ass, blocking the perfect view from the two men.

I was enjoying the moment that we were sharing. As long as she is happy, I’ll tolerate them.

You turn to sit back down, this time pushing yourself closer to Baek.

Baek bumps his leg into yours and raises his arm to rest behind you on top of the hot tub.

Both men enter the hot tub across from you both.

Baek notices both of them staring at his arm placed behind you.

You’re off limits.

“My name’s Tyler, this is my bud, Alex.” You reply with your name.

Baek is too focused on analyzing the two men to notice your light nudge, attempting to cue your boss to introduce himself.

The first man, Tyler, sits in front of Baek. His hair is long, unkept, which goes for the rest of his body hair.

If it wasn’t for his okay physique, clean teeth, and trimmed nails, Baek would have assumed him to be homeless.

Alex, the blond man sitting in front of you, has yet to take his eyes off of you. More specifically, you chest.

Baek quickly assess the man’s physique, height, and probable weight.

None of that matters. Baek would easily dominate the fight without his powers.

You slap Baek’s chest, sending him a light glare.

“Be nice and introduce yourself.”

“Name’s Baek.” He grunts, shifting the hand that lays behind you to hold your neck.

Your glossy eyes look up to your boss, questioning why he would be touching you.

He answers your silent question by massaging his thumb and fingers into the tight tendons in your neck.

To you, your boss is simply doing something nice.

To Baek, he was telling the two men that you were taken. It may not be by him, but those are lines he’ll address later.

You converse with the two men about where they live in the United States. The conversation flowed to the convention, which is why they were there. Tyler and Alex were weapons engineers for a guild within the States. You mentioned your reason for being here is the same.

“Mr. Baek here is the chairman of the White Tiger Guild in Korea!” You smiled, gesturing to your boss.

Both men finally take in Baek. Their eyes rake in the prime physique and intimidating stare they’re receiving.

“Well, that explains the accent.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Baek growls at Alex, both men look like they’re going to fight.

Not if you can help it. You came back to your home country to get away from that toxic environment. You were not going to let it ruin your relaxing evening.

You down the rest of the wine in your glass.

Before another word can cut through the thick atmosphere, your hand grips on to your boss’ thigh.

“Well, my wine just ran out. I think it’s time to go to bed.” The only acknowledgement you receive is a short huff from your boss.

Both men were at a standstill.

Tyler finally comes to his senses and tries to coax Alex out of a fight.

You huff and roll your eyes. The alcohol in your system is clouding your judgement.

At least, that what you tell yourself when you remember your next actions tomorrow morning.

Your hand moves further up your boss’ thigh, too cloth to something entirely off limits.

Your nails dig into Baek’s bottoms, indenting the flesh of his thigh.

The hand on your neck squeezes in response, but Baek’s eyes are still locked on Alex.

With your back turned, your on your knees again, setting the empty glass down. Baek’s hand drops from your neck and falls dangerously low on your back. His finders play with the band of your bottoms.

You take Baek’s jaw with one hand and tangle your other hand into the nape of his hair. You turn Baek’s face so he looks at you, his pupils blown.

“We’re leaving. Now.” Your hands clench with emphasis of your last word. The pressure of your nails creating crescents on Baek’s skin.

You finally get a huff and a head nod from your boss.

As you crawl out of the hot tub, Baek stands to block the view of your ass from the two men. Tyler and Alex are in a very passionate and hushed conversation.

You hand a clean towel to Baek, your towel already wrapped around your shoulders.

You quickly clean up your items and throw on your coverup. The less amount of time Baek stays in the presence of those two men, especially Alex, the better.

You lead Baek out of the pool room, to the elevator, and eventually to your rooms.

Baek offers a gruff goodnight before shutting himself in his room

Rude.

You dispose of your wine bottle and place the glass on the TV stand. After hanging up your bikini and a quick shower, you tuck yourself into bed.

The heat pooling between your thighs was hard to ignore. The protectiveness, borderline possessiveness, that your boss displayed tonight was a total turn on.

I will not masturbate to my boss.

You fall into a restless sleep.

Yoonho Baek found himself in a similar predicament.

The cold water ran over his back as he glared daggers at his painfully erect dick.

His brain couldn’t stop playing back how good your body felt, the heat of your skin as he held you in front of the two men. Abet, it wasn’t for long, but the heat of your skin still lingers on his hand.

Baek’s fish slams against the wall of the shower when he remembered how you slowly drug your hand up his thigh and squeezed. You didn’t know how dangerously closer you had been to his growing erection.

With a sigh, Baek grips his cock with his hand.

Just this once.

Baek cums quickly, popping his knot. White hot streams of his cum pain the wall of the shower. He hates the annoying voice in the back of his head. He hates to waste his cum, especially when he should be pumping it into you, his knot locking it in place.

Yoonho Baek barely sleeps that night. Thoughts of you in scandalous positions plague his dreams.

Neither you nor Baek were aware of the silent figure lurking outside of your rooms.

Waiting.

Salking.

Preying for the moment to strike.

Chapter 5

#fanfic #solo leveling #solo leveling fanfic #solo leveling x reader #toomanyfandoms04 writes #anime #baek yoonho #Baek Yoonho x reader #Baek Yoonho #Second POV #You're gonna look at me and tell me that a man who shifts into a literal tiger

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lotusarchon · 7 months ago

Note

hiii! I was wondering if I could request MK having a crush on his coworker?? For example like- Reader works as a waiter in pigsys and Mk admires them a little too much

Can you make it spicy too in a way?? Sorry if that sounds demanding 😭😭

Yhank you!! Have a nice day<333

waiter, waiter! one serving of my heart, please (mk x reader)

content warnings: gender neutral reader, second pov (you/your), reader and Pigsy's relationship is strictly professional/no solid relationships between them, mk is in love

author's notes: twas a bit hesitant to write this cause it kinda reminded me of an asshole i once met in my older server bleghhhhh :< also sorry, i couldn't make it spicy agh

MK remembered when you first walk through the door. It was another Tuesday afternoon, bored out of his mind after another day of delivering noodles and saving the city. He'd only just returned, filling in Tang about the demons he came across while Pigsy made something in the kitchen.

And you were there. A bit dull-eyed compared to what MK remembered, but still wearing that smile he'd grown so fond of. You'd raised your hand in greeting, asking for the owner of the establishment you'd enter.

He remembered being too dazed to really focus on the conversation. All he knew was that he'd call for Pigsy, then spent the next hour or so watching you from a corner. It wasn't until you had taken your leave did he realize to ask, and he turned to Pigsy for answers.

“Oh, don't look at me like that.” Pigsy had sighed, sliding a bowl of freshly cooked noodles towards him. “You've been busier than ever with your training. And since we don't want a repeat of last time―” Last time meaning the clone incident. He still couldn't get over obese Delivery Clone trying to eat Pigsy… “―I figured a helping hand around here would do the trick.”

MK pretended to pout. “So you're replacing me?”

“No, dumbass.” Pigsy threw a wet cloth at Tang. It landed with ease, and the scholar whined. “Just that you don't have to stress too much about not doing enough around here. (Name)’ll work in your free time, and you theirs.”

It didn't seem like too bad of an arrangement. There were days he couldn't be around, swamped with training or some monster that wouldn't leave the city alone, and Pigsy would need an extra hand to help around. He could've asked Mei though, but he figured that the pig demon also wanted to offer employment to anyone in need of it.

It's just that, while MK had eaten his noodles and stared through the window to past the time, he really thought you were interesting, and the plans Pigsy had meant that, most likely, neither of you would get to speak together.

And that sucked. Because, once MK had the idea (and mere audacity, to quote a certain hot tempered bull prince) of befriending someone, not even the Buddha could pry the thought from his head.

Which in turn, lead to certain events, as of now. Hanging around during his own breaks to catch a mere glimpse of you, trying to play off the ‘cool’ hero act only to have his own staff knock him over in the process, god awful flirting attempts (seriously, those lines were bad bad), to name a few of the things he'd done. That wasn't even mentioning the times he accidentally held you up during rush hour, earning a scolding from Pigsy and customers that were completely rude to you and made MK feel so guilty in the aftermath.

With that last one, you'd think that such behavior would be enough to put anyone off. No sane adult liked getting yelled at for actions that weren't their fault, especially from their boss.

By the gods, you were a literal saint. And MK would be damn well lying if he said he wasn't head over heels in love, and that was saying something.

But, no. You still smiled at MK every morning when clocking in for work, and you still laughed at his bad jokes and horrible flirting lines. The rare off chance you two spoke, you were always so nice, not even bringing up the fact he'd gotten you into so much trouble over and over again.

“You're going on your lunch break?” He asked, waiting outside for you to show your face once again. Today had been his day off, but with Mei busy and the city surprisingly peaceful for the time, what better way to spend it than with you?

The question was a bit…too obvious, honestly. Of course you'd be going on your lunch break at this hour, how would he not know when he worked for Pigsy at the same time?? Plus, it's not like he hadn't hassled Pigsy before about your work hours and the time you'd take your breaks so…

You raised your head and glanced at him, nodding slightly. “Yes. Would you like to join me?”

In his head, MK was jumping for joy. He had been planning on asking you if he should join, but then you went right ahead and invited him first. This was progress at its finest, and MK was nabbing at this opportunity faster than lightning.

Just as quickly, he responded, “I mean, if you wouldn't mind me, I don't mind! Like, if you want me, haha….”

He could imagine Mei looking down at him in disappointment. <Seriously, confidence is key. You're the Monkie Kid, what do you have to be worried about!?

That was easy for her to say! She was always cool, unlike MK who'd embarassing himself in front of you so many times….

Lost in thought, he hadn't realized you'd stopped walking until he nearly tripped over a table. You had the kindness to grab at him before he fell, offering your sweet, signature smile while he took a seat, nervously laughing.

“So….”

“So…”

How awkward. MK played with his sleeves, watching you pop open a box of noodles from Pigsy and eat. How the fuck do you even start conversations again?

As if you read his mind, you raised your head and gave him another smile. How he wished he had a notebook and pen around, if only to sketch you with such a peaceful expression.

“You can speak, if you'd like,” you said assuringly, picking up a mushroom from your bowl. MK was never a fan of vegetables, but watching you stick it into your mouth made him wonder if he should try eating some. “I'll listen. ‘kay?”

So thoughtful. “O..okay…”

And boy did MK speak. He chattered endlessly about anything that came to mind, gauging how you reacted carefully. Sometimes, you'd finish chewing to comment or too, other times, your expression would change with whatever he was talking about, nodding along in agreement with his peeves and then shaking your head when someone else supposedly did him wrong.

At some point, he'd completely trailed off topic, staring at your lips wrapped around your chopstick. He was technically still yapping, except that now―

“What did you just say?”

He blinked.

What…..what had he been talking just now? Was it something that upsetted you!? Fuck, he's such an idiot, allowing his mouth to blabber―

“You…like me?”

….

…

MK stood to bolt.

It turned out you were a lot faster than you gave him credit for. You had already grabbed him by the collar, yanking him backwards and onto the seat―this time, next to you.

“MK.”

Dear god, he wanted to disappear. Why hadn't Monkey King taught him one of his 72 transformations?? Fleeing from this situation would be a whole lot faster….

“MK.” You repeated his name, turning his head to look at you. “I heard you, you know.”

MK sighed. “Listen, I'm so sorry―”

“Why? Who said I didn't like you too?”

“―like, I know, I know, you're not here for relationships or any of that sort, and I shouldn't―what did you just say?”

You smiled slightly. “I said, I like you too.”

“Oh.”

“...”

And then MK fainted.

“MK? Are you alright?”

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lyn31 · 2 months ago

Note

SERIOUSLY LOVE your writing so much omg! i discovered your acc by your zayne pregnancy fic and i was wondering if you can make zayne and mc had a soft lovemaking (two rounds) while zayne's being gentle? 😆

Ahh yess ofc, most people find me through that series 😂 Which honestly perfect, love that series! 🫶🏻😩 I did not expect to write the whole thing ahahaha but anyway! Here's a gentle love making, ah well, it's not two round technically, I mean you can count it as two, but it just the perfect cut! I thought if I continue it'll drag on too much but there's plenty of gentleness going around 👀

OH! And... I kinda make it like a fill in blank for Fragrant Possession card ;-; Dw, there's not much spoiler if you didn't read the story yet! Just letting you know! Let me know what you think!💕

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Zayne Fragrant Possession (Celebration)

Summary

After the storm of battle and the glow of recognition, you let Zayne peel back every layer of your tension with steady hands and quieter love, until what’s left between you is nothing but warmth, want, and the ache of being truly seen.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Smut, Gentle sex, a lot of kissing, a lot of touching, body worshipping, multiple position, oral, banter! :D This is basically a fill in blank fic, where after MC did the speech, they eat at the restaurant and back to their hotel room, celebrating on their own :) Enjoy!

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The hotel room door clicks softly shut behind you.

Zayne doesn’t speak at first. He just stands there for a beat, eyes tracing the length of you—your tousled hair, the way his coat still hangs loose over your dress, the tiny scratches on your skin left behind from the earlier battle. You’re halfway between disheveled and radiant, and he looks at you like you're the most breathtaking thing he's ever seen.

Then, a slow exhale. A quiet, unshakable kind of awe.

“You were incredible today,” he says simply. But the words land heavy, warm. His voice doesn’t tremble, but something in his gaze gives him away completely.

You let out a soft laugh, dropping your purse onto the dresser. “You say that like I didn’t just get dirt on my tights.”

“And still accepted an award like royalty.” He steps closer, undoing the first button of the coat draped over your shoulders.

Your lips twitch. “Well, without your coat I would look like a battle-hardened maiden.”

“While that’s not really proper for a formal event, I think the world would be grateful to see it.”

You laugh, swatting his shoulder playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”

He smiles, the corners of his mouth lifting as he slides the coat down your arms with careful hands. “Hmm. Miss Hunter of the Year.”

You murmur, “Zayne…” but he’s already hanging the coat and returning to you. His fingers graze your cheekbone as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, gentler than the night deserves.

“Congratulations again,” he says quietly. “I’m proud of you. More than I can say.”

And it’s not the words that unravel you—it’s the way he says them, low and reverent, like you didn’t just win some award, like you built the stars he looks at every night.

You don’t say anything back right away. Just stand there in front of him, heartbeat slow and full, feeling the space between you shrink to nothing.

The night outside is quiet. The city doesn’t know what you gave up to be here. But he does.

He leans in.

It’s not rushed or sudden—just the natural conclusion of everything unsaid. His lips brush yours like he’s still asking permission, and you meet him there with a softness that nearly undoes you both. Slow. Warm. A kiss that speaks in quiet gratitude and long-held admiration.

Your hands find the collar of his shirt, and his find your waist—familiar now. You press your forehead to his as the kiss breaks, breathing against his mouth.

“Shower,” you murmur, almost dreamily.

He hums in agreement, the sound low in his throat, almost amused. His hands slide a little lower, then around, and with practiced ease, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms. There’s no urgency to it—only care, only the certainty that you’ll be safe wherever he carries you.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, cheek against his collarbone as he walks toward the bathroom, the soft shuffle of footsteps on hotel carpet the only sound around you.

The light in the bathroom is muted when he switches it on—golden and quiet, like the rest of the night. He sets you down with a gentleness that makes your chest ache and turns the water on, testing the temperature with his hand before adjusting it to something warm and steady.

Neither of you rushes. You undress in that slow, unhurried silence of people who know every inch of each other. He reaches for the clasp at the back of your dress without a word, fingers ghosting against your skin as he lowers the zipper. Your clothes fall away between soft glances, and when he undresses, it’s with the same quiet calm—never showy, never impatient.

The moment you step beneath the stream of water, your shoulders finally drop. Heat sinks into your skin, loosening the last remnants of tension.

Zayne steps in behind you a second later, hands grazing your waist as he closes the distance again. He doesn’t touch with hunger—this time he touches to soothe. He takes the shampoo from the hotel shelf and begins working it into your hair, fingers slow and sure, massaging your scalp with delicate pressure. The water runs down your back while his thumbs circle behind your ears, and you can’t help the sound you make—barely a sigh, but one that draws a small smile from him.

“You always melt when I do this,” he murmurs.

“Feels good,” you say softly. “Feels like you.”

He rinses your hair with the same care, cupping water in his palms to shield your eyes. Then he works his way down—your shoulders, arms, sides—rinsing and washing, never lingering too long, but never moving too fast either. The silence stretches, comfortable and golden.

You return the favor in kind—lathering soap in your hands and trailing it down the long line of his back. You feel the way he exhales when your fingers skim his spine. He leans just enough into your touch that you know he needed it too.

By the time you finish rinsing each other, the bathroom is thick with steam, warm enough to soften the mirrors and blur the corners of the world. Your skin glows with heat, flushed from both the shower and the way his hands had moved over you.

You glance at him, cheeks damp, hair dripping in soft waves against your neck. There’s a pause—just long enough to feel it—and then Zayne reaches up, his knuckles brushing beneath your chin, tipping your face toward him with a feather light touch.

“Better?” he asks, voice low and steady.

You nod. “Much.”

Zayne hums, then reaches for a towel, unfolding it with quiet care. The moment the fabric touches your skin, it’s warm and plush, a gentle contrast to the cool air outside the shower.

He starts at your shoulders, patting you in slow, deliberate passes. Between motions, his lips find your temple. Then the bridge of your nose. The curve of your cheek.

You stand still beneath the weight of it—of him—not because you don’t want to move, but because you don’t need to. He lowers the towel slowly, brushing it along your arms, down your sides. Every pass feels less like drying and more like memorizing.

When the towel reaches your waist, his mouth finds yours—unhurried, tender, the kind of kiss that makes your fingers curl against his shoulder, still slick with water. You breathe a laugh against his lips.

“I don’t think this is very efficient, Dr. Zayne.”

His mouth slips down to your jaw, then lower, his breath cool against the heat of your collarbone. “Multitasking,” he murmurs, “has a proven success rate.”

You snort softly but don’t argue. Not when his hands feel this careful. Not when his lips make you forget what dry even feels like.

But when the towel skims down your legs, you reach behind him, grabbing the other towel and lightly tapping it against his shoulder. He pauses, glancing up. You arch a brow.

“Pretty sure I’m dry enough,” you say with a teasing tilt of your head. “Your turn.”

Zayne straightens at your nudge, and you step in close, mirroring what he did moments ago—starting at his shoulders, gently patting the water away from his chest, then his waist.

He watches you quietly, his expression unreadable, but you feel the shift in him when you rise on your toes to press a kiss to his jaw. Another to the hollow beneath his ear. Then one more, soft and certain, against his lips.

You both pause when you're done, towel draped over the edge of the sink, robes slipped over clean skin, damp hair tucked behind your ears.

His hands settle at your waist again, light and certain.

“Definitely the efficient way,” he says, tone calm as ever. “We should always dry off like this.”

You laugh, warmth bubbling in your chest.

Zayne pulls away just enough to reach for the small hotel hairdryer, his brows lifting in a silent question. You sigh, dramatically.

“Do I have to?” you murmur, though you’re already turning around, letting your damp hair fall loose over the towel draped across your shoulders.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he replies, deadpan.

“And here I thought you were warming me up just fine a second ago.”

A soft huff of laughter escapes him, but he says nothing at first—just plugs in the dryer and gently begins to run his fingers through your hair, loosening the strands before the hum of warm air starts. The heat wraps around your scalp, and his hand never leaves you, guiding each section with quiet patience.

You close your eyes.

It’s not the heat that makes you melt—it’s the way his fingers never leave your hair, always grounding you, gentle and steady. Each motion is unhurried, reverent in its own quiet way. You feel his breath near your ear as he shifts angles, the towel still draped loosely over your shoulders.

“This part always makes me sleepy,” you murmur, lips curving faintly.

He makes a low sound of acknowledgment—something between a hum and a chuckle—but says nothing, continuing with the same careful attention.

“Is this my reward for winning an award?” you ask lightly.

“No,” he says, his voice softer now, more certain. “This is just a reward for being by my side.”

You swallow, caught off guard by how easily he says it—like it’s obvious. Like your place beside him is something valuable, not questioned.

Then, after a pause, he adds. “But now that you mention it... We should do something more tomorrow. A proper celebration.”

The dryer clicks off.

You turn slowly to face him again, hair still a little damp at the ends but no longer dripping. Zayne sets the dryer down, his hand slides to the edge of the towel, pulling it off from your shoulder as he meets your gaze. The air between you shifts again—closer now. Warmer. His hands then find your hips through the robe’s fabric.

“Tomorrow?” you echo, your voice quieting.

“Mhm. Tonight’s for us.”

Your fingers drift up to the knot at his robe, tugging it loose as you lean in. He meets you halfway—his mouth brushing yours in a kiss that starts soft but lingers, deepens. His hands curl at your waist. Yours slip under the lapel of his robe. There’s nothing rushed about it, just heat gathering between touches, weightless and slow.

By the time you part for breath, your noses are still brushing, and your lips are slick from the kiss. His hand cups the side of your neck, thumb stroking lightly just below your jaw.

You whisper, “Should we…?”

His gaze is already on your mouth when he answers, “Come here,” and kisses you again—this time guiding you slowly, deliberately toward the bed.

The bed is cool beneath you when you sink onto it, the mattress shifting gently under your weight. Zayne follows you down without breaking the kiss, one hand braced beside your head while the other finds your thigh beneath the robe—skin to skin, cool, warm and searching. His fingers trail up slowly, following the curve until his palm rests just beneath the hem, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly into your skin.

Your breath stutters when he deepens the kiss. No hunger unchecked. Just that same careful reverence he’s held you with all night.

Your hands move to the lapels of his robe yet again, fingertips slipping past the fabric to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. You part the robe a little more, easing it back over his shoulders until it hangs loose, framing the strong line of his body. Your palms splay across his skin, taking in the heat of him, the softness just beneath the muscle. He exhales softly against your mouth, like the touch alone is enough to ground him.

His hand slides higher along your thigh, the heel of his palm brushing the curve of your hip as he leans closer. The robes part further with every movement, but neither of you bother to shrug them off. There’s something more intimate in the layers—how they slip and shift just enough to reveal skin, but not all at once. Like the night is meant to be savored, not conquered.

You tilt your head back just a little, letting your lips part beneath his—and he leans in with a kiss that turns deeper now—less tentative, more claiming. His teeth graze your lower lip before he draws back just enough to whisper, “Tell me if you want more.”

Your breath catches—he’s close, warm, waiting. The ache between your thighs throbs at the edge of restraint.

“Yes,” you breathe, almost too soft to hear, but he hears it. Feels it in the way your hands curl into his robe, tugging him closer.

His mouth finds your jaw, then the edge of your throat, cool and open. You gasp when his hand cups under your knee and slowly draws your leg over his hip, aligning you more closely. The heat between you flares as your bodies press together through the thinning layers of fabric.

“You feel…” he starts, but trails off, voice roughened, lips against the hollow of your throat.

“Like yours?” you murmur, teasing—but the sentiment hums low in your chest, dangerously real.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, to see your face beneath the dim light. The answer is already there in his eyes, but he says it anyway, because it’s the way both of you like it.

“Always.”

His hand moves beneath the robe again, fingertips trailing a path across your waist, your stomach, then down again to your thigh, brushing it slowly. Your own hands mirror him—exploring, learning him again in the hush between kisses. Every sigh, every shift, every quiet press of mouth to skin adds to the slow rhythm you’re building, one touch at a time.

Then his hand slides higher, finding the edge of your robe and drawing it open a little more. You feel the fabric fall away from your chest as his mouth moves lower—past your collarbone, the slope of your shoulder, until his lips brush the swell of your breast. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t dive in. He parts his mouth over your skin, kissing softly around it, never quite where you ache for him yet.

You gasp as his hand move to touch the other where his mouth is not, kneading you gently through the loosened robe. Your body arches into his palm without thinking, and he responds with a soft exhale, lips dragging over the skin he’s not yet fully bared.

The coolness of his touch spreads under your skin like ice melting slowly beneath sunlight—his fingers stroking in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing out every reaction.

Still, his mouth lingers close but avoids the center.

He’s savoring you, utterly focused, as if every inch of you deserves its own moment.

His other hand is moving too, sliding along your inner thigh, just shy of where you need him. The sensation is maddening—the heat, the teasing pressure that makes your breath hitch and your hips shift without thought. You can feel the anticipation building, centered deep between your legs, pulsing and insistent.

Your hands find his chest—his robe already fallen halfway down his shoulders, giving you room to touch further. Your fingers trace the lines of muscle across his chest. With every slight movement, his breath hitches, then finally up to his shoulder where you clutch gently, grounding yourself.

Then his hand finally moves, slipping the rest of your robe aside so your breast is fully bare beneath his palm. The contrast of his skin on yours makes your breath stutter. He cups you directly now, and this time when he rubs his thumb over your nipple, you let out a soft, broken sound.

Zayne hums against your skin like approving the sound you make.

His fingers roll and flick the sensitive peak, gentle but purposeful, coaxing another gasp from you. But his mouth still doesn’t move to meet it—still kisses just around, just beside, as if teasing you is its own form of reverence.

“Zayne—” your voice catches in your throat, heavy with want.

Your hips shift again, arching toward the hand that still lingers at your thigh. Your body is already aching, already pulsing beneath every careful stroke.

He feels it—the way you move against him, the way your thighs tremble slightly under his touch.

And finally, his hand glides up, cupping your bare core under the fabric. You moan then, head tipping back into the pillow as the heat flares. He doesn’t go straight to it—doesn’t press too deep yet—but slides his fingers along the seam of your entrance, slow and patient.

Your grip tightens on his back, fingers curling into his bare shoulder.

He exhales again, slower this time, like he’s feeling it all with you. Then he leans up slightly, brushing his lips across your cheek as his fingers tease just barely inside the edge of your folds.

“You’re so warm…” he murmurs, low and quiet like a confession meant only for you. “And already so ready…”

His voice sends a fresh ripple of heat down your spine.

And his fingers—circling the entrance in maddening, deliberate strokes—leave you trembling with want.

His mouth trails downward again, brushing just beneath your breast before returning to it with a lingering kiss. The coolness of his breath and the drag of his lips make you shiver beneath him, and still his fingers stay at your entrance, applying only the lightest pressure—enough to keep you aware of his presence there, but not enough to ease the ache.

Then you feel it—his lips parting around your nipple as he sucks gently, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak in slow, savoring strokes. The sound you make is almost a whimper, hips rolling toward his hand instinctively.

His free hand is just as worshipful—cupping your other breast, thumb circling the nipple there, kneading softly in time with his mouth.

The combination pulls soft gasps from you with every motion. Your back arches, offering him more, chasing the pressure he still keeps just out of reach. And Zayne… he enjoy it thoroughly. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth is deliberate. Measured. Like he wants to know how each one makes you breathe.

He finally gives your breast one last suck and a stroke of his tongue, then lifts his head slowly. His hand still teases your breast, but his mouth starts moving lower again.

You feel his breath first—tracing the path down your stomach, then the light drag of his lips as he leaves open kisses along the curve of your belly, just above the soft edge of your robe.

With each kiss, he parts the fabric more, exposing more of you to the warm night air and to him. There’s reverence in it—no rush, no hurry, just the quiet focus of someone who’s utterly devoted to the woman beneath him.

Sometimes, it still stuns you—how gently he touches you when he could so easily take. Like he’s not just savoring you, but committing every part of you to memory. You wonder if he knows how safe he makes you feel. How easy it is to fall for him like this.

And when he reaches the very top of your thighs, he pauses just so he can look at you.

Then he leans in.

Soft. Slow. Like he’s greeting you.

You jolt at the sensation, a shuddering breath caught in your throat as your fingers tighten in the sheets.

Then he brings his hands to your thighs—gently parting your fold—before carefully spreading you with his fingers. You feel exposed, flushed, but the way he looks at you...

His eyes lift to yours, gaze steady, reverent.

And then—he licks you.

Long, slow, deliberate. Like he’s tasting something exquisite. His mouth is still cool and wet, tongue gliding from your entrance upward, catching along your folds. You moan, hips lifting in response, but his hands on your thighs keep you grounded—gentle, but firm.

His nose brushes your clit as he focuses on your entrance again, tongue teasing just inside, and the brush of pressure there sends your head falling back with a gasp.

“Zayne…” you breathe, voice shaking. One hand finds his hair, fingers threading into the soft strands, holding on.

He groans quietly into you—pleased—and the vibration of it makes you tremble. He licks deeper this time, tongue sliding into your entrance, slow but sure, like he’s not just doing this to make you feel good, but it’s also make him feel good.

His nose nudges your clit again, not quite an accident, but he doesn’t stay there—just a tease, another layer of the delicious torment he’s weaving.

The slick sounds of his mouth on you grow louder as your arousal builds, and the heat in your core starts to throb with growing need.

You feel it when his tongue pushes deeper, just enough to make your breath catch again, and when his mouth pulls back slightly, his fingers replace it—slick and warm with your arousal. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with those calm, hungry eyes as his finger circles your entrance, then slowly slides inside.

The gentle stretch still makes your hips jerk.

“Fuck—Zayne—” you pant, eyes fluttering shut.

He hums again, and you feel it in your bones.

He slides the finger in all the way, slow and careful, letting you feel every inch of it. Then he pulls back just enough to add another—pressing in with a steady rhythm, stretching you around him. Your walls flutter at the intrusion, already slick, already clenching as if trying to pull him deeper.

“Still so tight,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, voice soft, but thick with heat. “Even after how wet you are for me…”

His tongue returns to your clit, finally closing around it with a slow suck that draws a broken moan from your lips. The motion is deliberate, focused—just like the rhythm of his fingers, thrusting slowly, curling slightly inside you.

He’s not rushing. Zayne devours you like he’s trying to memorize every part of your taste, every sound you make, every twitch of your body beneath his touch.

You can barely breathe through it. His fingers thrust deeper, angled just right to brush against the spot inside you that makes your toes curl—and the same moment, his tongue flicks hard across your clit, making your hips buck up into his mouth.

His grip on your thighs tightens to keep you grounded while he builds you higher.

“You like that,” he says quietly against you, his breath teasing your sensitive flesh. “You always do…”

Then he flattens his tongue, pressing it firm to your clit as his fingers thrust harder—still slow, still controlled, but with more purpose now. The slick sounds of him fucking you with his fingers, the wet flick of his mouth, the way he keeps watching your face even as he works you apart—it’s all too much.

Your thighs tremble again, starting to close around his head as your orgasm threatens, but he holds you open, patient and unrelenting.

“Zayne—ah—don’t stop—”

He groans again, a low rumble against your skin, and the vibrations ripple straight through your core. His fingers curl deeper, finding that spot again and again, each stroke timed with the pressure of his mouth. And this time, when his lips close around your clit, he sucks harder—tongue circling in tight, slow spirals that make your eyes roll back.

You’re close. Too close. It hits you in waves—heat and pressure and pleasure mounting into something sharp and overwhelming.

Your fingers twist tighter in his hair. Your back arches. Your legs shake.

And then you break.

The orgasm hits like a crash—sharp, clenching waves pulsing through your core as your hips jolt up into his mouth. You cry out his name, breathless and broken, voice catching as pleasure floods through you. But he doesn’t stop.

He keeps his tongue on you, keeps his fingers moving inside you through every pulse, drawing it out, dragging you through every last ripple until you collapse back against the bed, panting, thighs trembling.

Only then—only when your body begins to twitch with over sensitivity—does he finally ease off, fingers slipping out of you with a slick sound. He kisses your thigh once, then again, slower this time, soothing.

You’re still catching your breath when he moves up your body, mouth trailing wet kisses up your skin. His hand brushes along your side, grounding you gently as he settles above you.

And when he finally leans in to kiss you—his mouth still tasting of you—it’s soft yet deep.

Like he’s claiming you and worshiping you all at once.

Your hand finds the back of his neck as he kisses you, fingers threading into the damp strands there. He’s still panting faintly from how long he kept his mouth on you—still reverent, still hungry.

And then you feel it.

His arousal, hard and heavy, pressed against your stomach. The warmth of him, the way it twitches slightly against your skin when your hand slides lower—wrapping around his cock with a slow stroke.

Zayne shudders above you.

His breath stutters, lashes fluttering briefly before his eyes meet yours again, darker now. He just watches you as your hand moves, slow and curious, stroking him from base to tip.

You feel everything. The weight, the heat, the faint slickness from his own arousal. He’s thick, pulsing in your palm, and the way his hips twitch subtly against your hand makes you smile.

His mouth finds yours again, less urgent now—just deep and slow, tongue brushing yours.

When he finally pulls back, his voice is a low rasp against your lips. “I’ll get the condom.”

He starts to shift off the bed, reaching to the nightstand, but you’re already sitting up.

Your fingers beat him from opening the foil, snatching it from his finger.

Zayne blinks as you tear it open with your teeth.

You shoot him a wink. “I got this.”

And then—you lower your mouth on him.

He groans, hands bracing on the mattress as he watches you. Watches the way your lips wrap around the head of his cock, how your mouth moves with deliberate slowness, sliding the condom down with your tongue and then your hands, unhurried and intentional, like you’re enjoying every second.

When it’s finally on, you sit up again, tossing the wrapper aside and wiping your mouth with the lick of your tongue. You straddle him easily, settling your thighs on either side of his hips.

“I can’t do it fully tonight,” you murmur, hands on his chest, pushing him down slowly and glancing down with a grin. “Because someone’s eager.”

Zayne actually snorts at that, quiet and amused. But he doesn’t argue.

Because it’s true.

He wants to be inside you—wants it in a way that makes his body tremble beneath your hands—but not with urgency. Just with need. A calm, aching desire that burns steady and slow.

You guide him to your entrance, lining him up with a roll of your hips, and his breath catches as the head of his cock nudges against your slick folds.

Then—slowly—you sink down.

It’s a stretch, thick and full, but the wet heat of your body welcomes him, inch by inch, until he’s seated deep inside you. You both moan—soft, shared—and he grips your hips, head falling back against the pillow as you pulse around him.

He groans, almost reverently when you clench around him.

You start to move. Not fast, not hard—just a slow, dragging grind of your hips as he thrusts gently up to meet you. The rhythm is lazy, unhurried, but deep. Every roll of your bodies pulls a new sound from your throat, from his mouth—a quiet symphony of pleasure and heat.

His hands roam—sliding up your sides, cupping your breasts again, thumbs brushing your nipples, making you shudder, until they’re swollen and sensitive. Your own hands explore in return, dragging through his hair, brushing his jaw, pressing to the firm planes of his chest.

You’re both touching constantly—palms and mouths and fingertips everywhere, like you can’t get close enough. He thrusts into you slow and deep, each roll of his hips stretching you just enough to keep you gasping, but it never becomes frantic. It’s all heat. Intimacy. Reverence.

“God,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his neck. “You feel so good…”

Zayne’s hands slide down your back, smoothing over the curve of your spine. “So do you,” he murmurs, voice breathless, raw. “You’re perfect…”

He thrusts again, his hips lifting into yours as he whispers your name—low and tender against your skin.

Your fingers slip down between your bodies, finding your clit, and Zayne groans softly as he watches your hand move. His own reaches up, gripping your free hand now—twining your fingers with his as your bodies move together.

That simple contact—your joined hands, his palm firm against yours—grounds you in a different way.

He meets you with each movement, slow thrusts that fill you perfectly—stretching, pressing, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you like he knows your body already, like he was made to fit just right.

You tighten around him as your pleasure coils again, faster this time. More insistent. Every deep stroke of his cock inside you pushes you closer to the edge, especially with his eyes locked on yours like that, watching every twitch of your mouth, every flutter of your lashes.

He lifts his hips with more purpose now, still slow, still deep, but the weight behind each thrust becomes more deliberate. He’s chasing it too—his need rising just under the surface, trembling through his arms, his breath.

“Come for me,” he whispers, voice low and coaxing, and the heat of it rushes through you like a wave. “Let me feel it…”

Your breath catches as the release finally crashes over you—your body clenching hard around him, back arching as you cry out his name. Your grip tightens in his hand, anchoring yourself in that shared moment, in the pleasure ripping through you like a slow, burning flood.

Zayne follows a second later with a rough groan, his hips stuttering as he comes inside you, buried deep. He doesn’t let go of your hand—his fingers tighten almost desperately, holding on as the pleasure wracks him, pulse after pulse drawn from him while your body still flutters around his.

You collapse forward slowly, your chest pressed to his, breath mingling with his as you both tremble together—still joined, still locked in that grip that hasn’t eased.

Zayne turns his face toward yours, kissing you softly now, like he’s still lost in you—slow and open-mouthed, lips brushing between uneven breaths—when you feel him begin to pull out.

His movements are careful, deliberate, and you whimper faintly at the loss of him inside you. His cock slides out of you with a wet sound. He peels the condom off with a flick of his fingers as he shifts to the edge of the bed with a heavy breath.

He turns his head slightly, preparing to toss it—

Then pauses. Because your foot has lifted, toes curling deliberately around the softening base of his cock.

Zayne jolts under the touch, eyes flicking to yours—surprised, then amused, then desire again as his cock begins to twitch back to life beneath the teasing press of your foot.

Already, he’s half-hard again. Persistent. Responsive. Like his body refuses to believe it’s over.

You lick your lips slowly, your thighs falling open as you meet his gaze with a sly tilt of your head.

“Want to go again, boyfriend?”

His expression doesn’t even twitch for a second—and then, slowly, he shakes his head with that faint, amused exhale. But his eyes… they’re heat and yes and please all at once.

He reaches for another condom with calm precision, but there’s nothing casual in the way he crawls toward you—his body sliding between your parted legs, positioning himself right in front of your entrance like gravity’s pulling him there.

He rolls the condom on quickly, his hands practiced, then brings them to yours—lacing your fingers together and pressing both your arms out to the sides, gently pinning you down beneath him.

Then he pushes in.

It’s slow. Deep. He stretches you again with that aching drag, and both of you groan softly—like your bodies can’t quite believe you’re doing this again so soon, but neither of you would dream of stopping.

Zayne lowers himself fully, chest to chest, mouth brushing yours as his hips settle in the cradle of your thighs.

This time he moves even slower.

Every thrust is deliberate, the pace unhurried, savoring every ripple of heat between you. He’s not chasing the release this time—he’s sinking into you like he wants to stay just like that.

His lips find yours again, soft and wet, kissing you through the rhythm of his hips. His hands tighten around yours just slightly with each thrust—like he needs the anchor of your body just as badly as you need his.

You moan into his mouth as his cock presses deeper, your walls fluttering around him, still sensitive, but wanting more. Always more.

He groans softly in return, the sound vibrating against your lips.

Neither of you speaks now.

There’s only touch—his cock moving inside you, your bodies sliding together in the dim light, his mouth pressed to yours like a seal.

And his hands—still tangled with yours, holding you in place as he makes love to you like it’s the only thing in the world he needs.

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

The room is quiet now, except for the low hum of the night and the even softer rustle of blankets shifting as you both curl closer under them. You’re in your pajamas—finally—your hair still a little messy, your skin carrying the aftershocks of everything that just happened. Zayne’s chest rises slowly beneath your cheek, and his arm is draped around your back, fingers absently tracing patterns across your spine.

You're half-asleep, but not quite. Drowsy. Safe. Content.

“I can’t tell if I like you teasing or being gentle better…” you murmur, voice slurred from the edge of sleep.

Zayne’s brow lifts faintly, the amused breath he lets out brushing the top of your head. “I thought you liked me being rough? Isn't that what you keep asking me to do?”

You swat his chest with the back of your hand. “That’s what I’m saying! You still find a way to torture me even when you’re being gentle! I can’t understand it at all!”

He chuckles softly, then leans down to kiss your head—lips warm, lingering.

“That just means we’re perfect together,” he murmurs, low and certain.

You go still for a second, your lips twitching.

“Awww,” you whine, lifting your head just slightly to peer at him. “Well when you put it that way I can’t really make a joke about it.”

“You always find a way,” Zayne says smoothly, the corner of his mouth tugging up just a bit. “Miss Rookie of the Year.”

You blink at him, snorting at how he still goes on about the award you won, before you pursed your lips as you actually think about it. “Like maybe how I adapt to your way of doing things? Like when we fight side by side? Wait a minute—that’s not a joke, that’s just the truth…”

You groan and drop your head dramatically to his chest, muffling your face against his shirt.

Zayne lets out a quiet laugh, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head like he’s tucking you into him. You feel the press of another kiss at your temple.

“You’re the big spoon tonight,” you grumble against his chest.

“Yes, darling,” he replies instantly—so calm, so amused.

You groan again, but this time it sounds more like surrender than protest. He kisses your head one last time, his body warm and still, and the steady rhythm of his breathing lulls you under with him, tangled together and too in love to care whose legs are where.

Sleep pulls you both down, quiet and close. Perfectly matched.

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Notes

I mean I have to? No? I def have to ahahaha But anyway! Hope you enjoy this! They're too sweet for this world 🫶🏻😩 Another card's fic is over here! Zayne - Immediate Disorder Extended (Mature) Zayne - Immediate Disorder Extended Extra (Smut)

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murakamiyuki · 1 month ago

Text

Sweet as a Lollipop

(Wind breaker) Kaji Ren/Reader

Kaji Ren has gotten a toothache. Unfortunately, he can't eat his lollipops like that. You also don't want him to accidentally blurt out anything in a fit of rage. So, you suppose you can play the lollipop

A/N: I got this idea randomly one morning and thought it was too funny to not write 😂 So, while I work on my COD fanfic, I decided to quickly assemble this one! Hope you enjoy this lil drabble as much as I do >W< Also, it's my first time trying second pov, tell me how it looks 🥺 (Also Ren is a bit out of character, forgive me 😭)

Read on Ao3

Masterlist

You know instantly that something’s not right the second you step onto the Fuurin school grounds. Your brows furrow, watching the poor first-years carefully sneak away and hide in the shadows. The suspicion is cemented once your eyes land on the familiar blond hair, standing on the court.

You smile warmly. The sight of your boyfriend brings a pleasant flutter in the pit of your stomach. You half-expected that after 6 months of dating the feeling would morph into something calm and serene, marking the end of the honeymoon phase, but no. Every time your eyes lock, you feel a blush creep on your cheeks.

However, now, as you catch Kaji’s intense gaze, you slowly realize the reason for the students’ escape. Instead of the usual adorable awkwardness he has in your presence, his entire aura reeks of death and fury. A scowl rests on his face while he paces around restlessly among the sea of his classmates. Enomoto and Kusumi try to calm him down, but every single attempt seems fruitless.

You frown as well. You’re painfully aware of Kaji’s explosive and irritable personality, but seeing him already pissed this early in the morning meant that a disaster has struck. So, fixing the grey hoodie that you had successfully stolen from your beloved boyfriend, you approach him on the field in quick strides.

“Ren!” You call out for him, your voice concerned yet filled with love and adoration.

Kaji’s head whips in your direction, and his eyes soften upon seeing you. His mouth opens to greet you, but almost instantly his face twists in agony, jaws snapping close with a loud clunk you heard from the distance, and his hand flew to land a rough punch on the nearby bench.

The rapid move startles you, and you flinch at the sound. Your eyes go wide as you stare at your boyfriend in confusion, your mind racing to assess the situation for any reasonable explanation. But almost immediately, you feel muscular arms wrap around your shoulders as Ren’s face buries into your neck for comfort.

‘This is new,’ you think, utterly dumbfounded and taken aback at the sudden pda from Kaji. Still, you trace his back in soothing circles.

“Hey,” you coo in his ear softly. “Talk to me. What happened?” You ask, hoping you picked the right words to coax the truth out of him instead of the usual ‘I’m fine’ reply. After all, you haven’t spent half a year reassuring him for nothing.

“He can’t,” Enomoto replies, his voice serious and strained.

His response ignites a flame of fear in your chest. Your mind instantly wanders to the worst possible scenario – Ren being ganged up on and beaten ruthlessly till he loses his voice. It’s not like you question Ren’s raw strength. You saw once first-hand just how powerful he is. But you know what they say, ‘A pack of hyenas can take down a lion.’

Your heartbeat races as anxiety takes the reigns. You’re fully prepared to drag Kaji to the hospital when Takeshi continues. And you’re not sure whether his follow-up words make you want to laugh or cry.

“He can’t because he’s got a toothache.”

The phrase sends you into a stupor. You could physically feel the gears in your head come to a full stop before your brain finally processes the meaning. Your eyes travel to Ren’s face, red from embarrassment, and it forces a quiet giggle out of your lungs.

A toothache?

It is hardly a problem compared to what you have already conjured up in your mind.

“Stop laughing! OW!” Ren cries out in frustration but immediately regrets his decision. His hand flies up to palm his pulsing cheek.

“That also means he hasn’t eaten a single lollipop today,” Enomoto shrugged with a tired sigh after he spent hours fighting Kaji alongside Kusumi, both on a mission to confiscate every sucker.

‘That’s why he looked ready to kill you,’ you remark hastily to yourself.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, you can’t help but giggle. The revelation was both a surprise and an anticipation, considering your boyfriend’s eating habits. Even you at some point began stacking strawberry lollipops in your purse and pockets, the fact which you remember way too late when Ren swiftly reaches into the pouch of your (his) hoodie to retrieve the desired item. And like a sneaky kid, he dashes away, hands already unwrapping the lollipop.

“Rrrren!!!” Enomoto roared after the retreating figure. He was about to chase him down, tackle him to the ground, tie his legs and arms if he had to, but fortunately, Kaji didn’t get too far when the pain in his tooth intensified to a pulsing agony at the contact with the sugary ball. His knees buckle and your beloved crashes face first into the ground.

When your uncontrollable hollering dies down, you finally decide to lend a hand. You crouch beside him as he lies splayed on the ground like a starfish. Your palm grazes his locks before traveling to his swollen cheek. Your soft touch almost instantly relaxes Kaji as he leans closer to get more of your warmth. “I’ll make an appointment at the clinic, and we’ll go to the dentist today, okay?”

His grey eyes stare at you as though you were an enemy. Ren is stubborn, you know that. He would deny the end of the world if it meant getting his way. You mentally ready yourself for an argument, but then, a smile graces your features when Ren reluctantly nods.

*~*~*

You thought you were prepared for any relationship struggle. You melted the heart of that one person whom people called nothing short of a beast. You taught him to be gentle. You showed him how nice it felt to slow down and just enjoy the moment, or that cuddles were much better with another human-being and not a pillow. What you weren’t prepared for was for Kaji—one of the strongest people among Fuurtn—to morph from a proud beast into a sulking puppy.

Your arm is hooked on his, supporting him as you walk to his house. He’s understandably shaken. After all, it was his first ever dental surgery, which he was not mentally prepared for. Your fingers still sting after you foolishly agreed to hold his hand during the procedure.

You glance to the side to take a look at Ren’s face. His brows are pinched together, his face red, decorated with an adorable pout, and he keeps poking his numb cheeks, marveling at the odd effects of anesthesia. Your heart swells at the sight and you snuggle closer into his side.

“Yo, Kaji!” A familiar voice called out from behind them.

You both turn around to spot Kaji’s classmates, grinning at you two. They were patrolling, you deduct, when they spotted you weaving through the busy streets. You wave at them with a smile as they approach you and immediately bombard you with questions about their grade rep’s wellbeing.

“Is he okay now?”

“He looks pale.”

“Isn’t he kinda quiet, too?”

You feel Kaji tense under your touch. You see his hand desperately pat his pockets to search for the lollipops that are still under his vice-captains supervisor. Plus, the doctor strictly forbade any sugary treats for the next couple—long and torturous—days.

At that moment, you suddenly remember the true purpose of those lollipops, recalling his quiet and trembling voice in the darkness of your bedroom. He poured his insecurities to you, bared his heart like never before.

“I don’t want people to think I’m a monster anymore… Don’t want to say anything I’ll regret…”

Your lips purse into a thin line, anticipating a disaster to strike. You can feel his body shake, all pent-up energy after the surgery is ready to unleash.

But then…

As Ren opens his mouth to release a war cry, you grab his face and press your lips together in a feverish dance. Standing on your tippy-toes, you kiss him with fervor in an attempt to quell his anger. ‘Tame the beast,’ as his friends like to joke.

Kaji is speechless. His eyes widen and his body locks in shock. Suddenly, his classmates, the surgery, the numbness in his cheek, all forgotten, faded into the background like a feverish memory.

But despite his astonishment, he kisses back. How can he not? You’re his girlfriend. He enjoys kissing you as much as you do. At this point, it doesn’t even matter that his classmates stare at them with wide eyes and reddening faces.

So, until the doctor approves the enormous lollipop consumption, you’re forced to stay by his side and do your job for the lollipop. Whenever Ren is angry, feeling as though his body is about to explode, he presses you tightly into him, one hand resting on your waist, the other one tenderly holding your cheek. And the next thing you know, his lips move against yours with purpose.

It always comes unexpected that you have to suppress a surprised yelp. But if it helps Ren keep his sanity intact, you’ll gladly survive any impromptu makeout session, even if his friends are there.

The last thing Ren wants to do is to say to his friends something horrible he won’t be able to fix. So what if they tease him? He’ll keep pressing his lips into yours over and over again.

After all, you’re sweet as a lollipop. Maybe even sweeter.

#wind breaker #kaji ren #kaji ren/reader #kaji ren/you #fluff #established relationship #drabble #second pov #romance #x reader #reader insert #wind breaker fluff

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thatoneash · 11 months ago

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The Sun and The Rain

Aether x Reader

Hurt/ No comfort, Heavy Angst, Major Character Death, No Happy Ending

One moment. One moment of weakness is the biggest mistake you can make in the midst of a battle. Too bad no one ever told you that.

One moment of weakness is the biggest mistake you can make in the midst of battle. Aether knew that. He wishes he told you that.

word count:1680

It happened before you could react. The swift motion of the blade that one of the highest-ranked enemies you were battling with wielded, cut through your abdomen with sharp pain, leaving you choking on your breath as you stumbled away from the enemy. It was a mistake on your part. You were distracted, turning your head towards Aether, when you heard him grunt in an unmistakable sound of pain. Aether got a low hit from his side but was back in motion the next second, turning his focus onto the enemy as he quickly got back to fighting.

You instinctively covered your wound with one hand, warm, sticky blood making its way from your abdomen to your legs and to the ground fast enough that it left you with a feeling of fear. You had no time to give in to the pain. However, as your survival instincts peaked, the hot rush of adrenaline ran through your body like electricity, making you grip your weapon harshly. The enemy attacked again, wasting no time and certainly not waiting for you to catch a breath as he swung his blade sharply. You dodged in time, grunting from the pain that even this swift, slight motion gave you, resulting in the blade grazing your left cheek like paper.

You had no time to reflect on yet another wound as you got into your attack stance, the anger that heated your whole body, giving you a little more push to fight back. You swung your weapon harshly, sloppy from being wounded, as you fought back with the enemy. You could hear Aether and others fighting loudly, too focused on wiping out the entire army of the upper legion of the Abyss, as they killed one after the other.

You bit down on your lip, suddenly feeling ashamed of yourself for getting distracted in the heat of battle, the one mistake none of the others seemed to make as stupidly as you did. Your lack of being able to keep your attention in one place always came to bite you in the ass, and you were okay with that most of the time. But to think that you let that happen in a life-or-death situation like this made you feel foolish and incompetent with the people you’ve come to call your friends on this journey. You would be okay If it resulted in your death, but you would never forgive yourself If your stupidity cost you the lives of your friends.

As the enemy attacked again and again, it’s only intention to be transparent to you that he certainly wasn’t gonna stop until you took your last breath. You uncovered your wound to wield your weapon with both hands, with your dangerously decreasing stamina and sense of surroundings.

Your eyesight was becoming blurry, your slowly increasing dizziness making it harder for you to be aware of the enemy’s growing attacks. You were getting increasingly sloppy, the thin line between your will to survive and the need to close your eyes for a second at least, making it almost impossible to detect what was real and what was fake.

Were you fighting right now? Was there really a dangerously blood-lusting enemy in front of you, waiting to end what you could call a short-lived life? You didn’t even get to try all the foods of Teyvat yet, didn’t help Aether reunite with his sister, didn’t cook that one food Paimon wanted from you for over two weeks now, you didn’t get to revisit Mondstad -and oh how you missed the city of freedom- you didn’t get to revisit Angel’s Share or the Kamisato siblings and the Crux. You haven’t got to do anything yet.

You haven’t got to confess to Aether yet.

Your eyes slowly opened back up, your confused eyes meeting with the gray sky. Before you could look at your surroundings from your position on the ground, the sounds caught up to you first. Screams, blades crashing on one another, and the familiar voice of the blonde traveler were enough to pull you back into reality.

However, before you could even get your head off the hard ground you were laying on, the enemy you were battling against stood over you with a sick grin, seemingly very satisfied that he finally got you where he wanted.

Contrary to your sickeningly fast beating heart, your body wasn’t obeying any of your brain’s orders to survive. Every single part of your brain was screaming at you to move, an alarmingly increasing rush of fear consuming your body, making it clear that If you didn’t do something now, these were going to be your last moments. Your eyes glanced to your sides in panic, opposing to your frozen body, as you caught a glimpse of your weapon.

Once again, it happened before you could react. The body that was frozen out of fear just a few agonizing seconds ago reacted before your brain caught up to your movements. Just a second ago, your eyes fell on the weapon that was next to you, and the next second, the same weapon’s shaft was in your hand in a tight grip, the other side of the weapon cutting right through the enemy’s body that was hovering over you.

You caught the guy’s eyes on top of you, his eyes wide from the unexpected attack that happened in mere seconds, leaving him with a weapon cutting right through his chest as his blood spilled down onto your face.

And then, he took his last breath, leaving his body limp as he fell to your side.

I’m alive, you thought to yourself. I’m alive. I’m alive. Hot tears threatened to spill from your eyes as the aftershock of the whole situation started settling in. I’m alive, you thought, just a second before all the adrenaline slowly left your body, almost mocking you with the way it made the wounds from your body known to you again. The sharp, agonizing pain from your abdomen left you breathless once again, leaving you coughing for air, only resulting in coughing up more blood.

‘’And that was the last of them,’’ you heard the voice of Aether, seemingly out of breath as a few others started talking. ‘’Archons, finally! I need a long bath after this.’’ you heard another sound chime in, followed by another. ‘’You guys know what this calls for? A celebration feast tonight, and it’s all on me!’’ you heard a few people start cheering and laughing, unable to make out who was who.

You smiled, nonetheless. You wanted to be able to join them and cheer with them, but your body was tired. You decided it was nothing a little nap wouldn’t be able to fix. Besides, you were already feeling your eyes threaten to close, begging you to rest just a little. Who were you to resist? You were sure the others would understand. It was just gonna be a little nap, and then you could go and join the celebration feast with them. Before closing your eyes, you also decided that you would confess to Aether. But before that, you just needed to rest your eyes for a little while...

‘’Hey, where’s-’’ Aether asked, frowning as he looked at the others. The little celebration talk died down as they all seemed to notice the girl’s absence.

“Where is she?” The golden hero asked again, his voice trembling from the panic overtaking his body.

“Hey, relax, I’m sure she’s somewhere around-“ Aether ignored other’s voices as he frantically looked around. You were there a moment ago. He saw you fighting, he was sure. You were okay, you looked okay a moment ago.

When was the moment ago he recalled back to? His brain started flooding with the flashes of the battle that took place just a moment ago, trying to recall back the last time he heard your voice in the heat of it. When was it? Where were you?

He started walking fastly around the bodies of the Abyss soldiers, trying to get a glimpse of your familiar clothes. Surely you weren’t among them? Maybe you were just sitting under a tree, trying to catch your breath? Yeah, that seemed reasonable. After all, there was no way you’d be lying amongst these bodies, right? No, he wouldn’t let something like that happen in the first place, he was sure.

Then, he caught sight of the familiar colors you wore everyday. Right next to an Abyss soldier’s lifeless body.

His eyes widened in terror as he realized that you were lying next to it, unconscious.

His body moved on its own as he rushed over to your body, almost tripping over the bodies on the ground.

“Hey, hey hey hey! Why are you lying here? Come on, this is no place to take a nap!” he shook your body frantically as his own body started running cold with fear at your unresponsiveness

“Open your eyes, come on come on come on…” some watched in fear, some watched in shock and some watched in sympathy as the golden hero of Teyvat held his partner’s body close to him, desperately trying to talk a dead corpse into coming back to life.

“No no no no… don’t- don’t do this” a sob escaped his lips, “Please, please open your eyes. Come on, open your eyes, please. I’m begging you please don’t-“ another sob “Please don’t leave me”

All of a sudden, it started raining. Aether thought of it as a sick joke when the first rain drop fell on your face, followed by others. You hated the rain.

He looked up at the sky with a scowl. It was bright, not even a cloud in sight. The sun’s burning gaze shone down at him, as if it was mocking him.

He looked back down at your body on his lap. The scorching sun above was making him feel like he was in the depths of hell, yet your body seemed to be getting colder.

He decided that he hated the sun that day.

I was feeling sad the day I wrote this and wanted to write something sad in return. You give you take I guess.

Anyways hope you enjoyed it even though it’s super short

#genshin impact x reader #aether x reader #angst prompt #angst with no happy ending #heavy angst #major character death #reader #second pov

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jumbowashere · 5 months ago

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just a lil idea i had in my mind. (God i love mel)

Prompt 4: "You're staring again."

Mel x Reader (Modern Au ❤️)

~~~

You expected to feel arms around you, a soft breath tickling your neck, fingers playing with your hair.

"Mel?" You whisper, voice filled with sleep.

But you felt nothing, strange. Groaning, you feel to the space next you, still warm. Deciding against the judgment to keep sleeping, bleary-eyed you walked into the bathroom, slowly get ready.

Opening your bedroom door, a smell hits you, making you rub your stomach in response.

The kitchen, it's a sight you would soak in everyday. Mel Medarda, cooking you breakfast, in her kitchen.

"G'mornin."

"Morning," Mel turned to face you with a smile.

A small smile fell on your face, sitting at the table and just taking in the sight of her. Memories flow making your gaze more, of longing.

Just a couple weeks ago you were baking, and made such a mess in this kitchen, one of the times you saw how mischievous this woman was. You were just so–

"You're staring, again."

"I–," That broke you out of your daydreaming. A slight jump, cheeks heating up. Mind reeling for a response, as your smile shyly grew.

"I'm just enjoying the beautiful view."

That earned a giggle form her, the look you saw was only you thought to be described in books. Her rested on your, her words as gentle as could be.

"You are impossible." Leaning in Mel whispers, "What view is better than you?"

Handing leaving your as she places it on your cheek, unconsciously you leaned into her.

Eyes closed, no matter what you she was your safe places. Hopefully she would be fore years to come.

~~~

can you tell ive never been in a relationship 😭

#second pov #reader insert #arcane #mel medarda #mel medara x reader #i love mel #fluff #acrane fluff #modern au

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 1 year ago

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Prompt: okay but cas would show up with a handful of weeds, with the roots and dirt still on the bottom, and give them to dean because 'it's the human tradition to bring flowers, right?' and dean would 'yeah. yeah cas that's right' because that is how they say i love you @deanspunchingbag

Title: Surprise me

Pairing: Castiel x Reader (they/them)

Characters: Castiel, Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Word Count: 1,254

Summary: What if you’re friends with Castiel and the Winchester brothers? Castiel, as an angel, obviously has issues with understanding body language and subtext, so you help him out now and then. One day after a case, you all go to a bar. For shits and giggles, you start teaching him about flirting. You’re not a great flirt, but you can read body language and explain it.

Thank Jack that Castiel doesn’t know you’ve been in love with him for a while. If only he would reciprocate your feelings, even a little.

Warnings: Alcohol, consensual licking of arms and neck (sort of)

A/N: This was the first idea I came up with for the prompt and it became self-indulgent. Hush. This is in second person POV.

What if you’re friends with Castiel and the Winchester brothers? Castiel, as an angel, obviously has issues with understanding body language and subtext, so you help him out now and then. One day after a case, you all go to a bar. For shits and giggles, you start teaching him about flirting. You’re not a great flirt, but you can read body language and explain it.

Dean, of course, interrupts you and explains to Castiel, for a couple hours, how to flirt with the ladies and men. You just giggle and chuckle at the stories he tells. It’s even funnier when Dean makes Castiel “practice” these “new moves” on him. Dean keeps at it, and finally the angel seems to be getting the hang of it.

Suddenly, Castiel gets up and goes to get everyone another round of beers, deciding to all get a shot of tequila, salt and lime. He sits back down next to you and distributes everything evenly. He tells you “The bartender said it could be a good tool to flirt with so I thought I’d try, but they didn’t explain how.”

Dean tells Cas to watch Sam and him. Sam and Dean eye each other in their silent communication, they salt and lemon their wrists and lick before shooting the tequila. You giggle when you see their faces.

The brothers aren’t big tequila people,they prefer whiskey or bourbon.

Castiel looks confused and says “That doesn’t seem very flirty.”

You giggle at them and tell Cas that “It isn’t. They’re chicken.”

Castiel then asks you to show him how to shoot the tequila flirtatiously. You know you’re a bit more than buzzed for this, and mumble “What the hell, why not?”

“Okay,” you begin. “I’ll show you. The idea is to make it as close to a body shot as you can, since putting your mouth on someone can be considered flirting if not a potential interest in sex.” You tell him step by step how to make a tequila shot flirty and sexy by taking the ladies wrist—you take Castiel’s wrist, in this case, and place a kiss on the sensitive area/spot inside before licking it.

You tell him how “Most people will laugh it off. That’s when you salt the wet area on their wrist so it sticks.” You salt his wrist and then grab the slice of lime, telling the blue-eyed man to open his mouth only a little. He looks confused, but does as instructed.

You notice Dean and Sam eyeing each other again and nod. They make some excuse to get up, and walk away as you continue teaching the angel.

You stick the lime in Castiel’s mouth to hold it. “The idea is to get a subtle kiss here. They’re going to come and bite the lime to get the juice, and you can either let them have the lime when they do, keep the lime so they only get the juice and you get the lip press, or if you wanna be a true sneak, spit out the lime and get the kiss you want instead.” You smirk at him, not telling him you’ve always been scared to do the latter.

Castiel quirks a brow at you and you have to stop the shiver that it causes, dominating you so easily.

He’d only have to do that brow at you and you’d probably do whatever he says. You can feel yourself beginning to get wet.

Ignoring it, you continue your lesson.

“So, you lick the salt, juice the lime and shoot the tequila, but this is the flirt…sexy way.”

He squints his eyes at you.

“You ready?”

He nods. “Yes.”

Still holding his wrist, you proceed to lick his wrist.

With his free hand, Castiel removes the lime and asks, “If this were you doing this to a man or woman, what would you do?”

“Me?” You ask. “For a guy I wanted to sleep with, I’d just ask him if he wants to go back to my place for sex. Men tend to like directness, from my experience. Women, though, I’d flirt with and tease. I’d probably do what I’m doing right now and make sure I was the one with the lime, so we could make out instead of shooting tequila.”

“You haven’t tried flirting with men?” Castiel inquires.

“I have, but I get nervous for some reason. I’ve taught many friends how to successfully flirt, but for some reason I end up acting like a fish or stuttering when I try to flirt with me.” You roll your eyes and shrug. “It’s easier to be friends with people I like than it is to actually…pursue,” you quietly confess to Castiel.

Castiel tilts his head, keeping his eyes on you for nearly a minute in silence. The silence isn’t awkward, but calming and companionable.

It is one of your favorite things about Castiel, you think to yourself. You can just sit together and do different things, but still feel like you’re engaged and doing something together…or maybe that is just you.

And then, he asks a really weird question: “How do you like to be flirted with?”

You furrow your brow at the question, initially confused, but then you think about it. You look down as you think, then say the first thing that comes to mind when you’ve gone on really good dates. “Be interested in me and actually listen to what I’m telling you. Tell me about you, your past, your history, experiences that I might be able to relate to, about your family and friends, your aspirations…”

Castiel’s head tilts the other way as his blue eyes continue to watch you.

“Be accepting of me and my truths, my authenticity. I may have been born female, but I am very good at taking care of myself. I’m choosing to be here with you when I could be elsewhere. Be satisfied I’m here with you.”

“You are,” agrees Castiel. “And others. You care very deeply about your found family, as you call us.” He uses air quotes and slightly smiles. He leans forward, getting your eye to look into his. He is mere centimeters from your face. “I’m very happy you came out here with me tonight. It makes me very happy to spend time with you.”

“Thanks, Cas,” you give him a small smile, feeling your cheeks heat up. Your brow furrows again. “Cas, are you flirting with me?”

He looks down at his wrist. You follow his gaze and see that you’re still holding it, but resting on the table now. He gives a sheepish smile and nods looking at your hand.

Your heart races as adrenaline pumps through you at this disclosure. You take a deep breath and exhale. Then, you rotate and slide your hand into his. “Okay.”

He looks at you, confused. “What do you do when they realize they’re flirting back?” Worried, Cas’ blue eyes search your face.

You grin at him. “How bout we get outta here, just the two of us?”

It takes him a few extra seconds to connect the dots and nod. “Yes, okay.”

He scoots out of the booth and you follow him, keeping his hand in yours. You look around for the brothers who are sitting at the bar, chatting.

You both walk outside, looking up through the light pollution to see the moon and brilliant Venus close by.

“Where to?” He queries.

“Surprise me, Angel.”

He bends down and plucks a daffodil that has broken through the asphalt parking lot. Castiel hands it to you. “For you.”

You smile and take it, putting it behind your right ear.

#supernatural #did I already post this?#dean winchester #castiel #spn #sam winchester #reader #you #castiel/reader #Castiel/you #second pov #flirting #alcohol bar pub #reader insert #castiel x reader #Castiel x you #you insert #prompt #elle em bee

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 6 months ago

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Apricity

[Table of Contents]

CHAPTER TEN, Resultance

Day 33/34, Sunday night / Monday morning

The sun shines brilliantly off of Newt's golden hair, lighting the spot in the field that the man was grazing, pulling weeds and plucking something or other from the tops of the growing crops. He looked peaceful, standing there with a content smile, just going about his day as if farming wasn't the most boring thing in the entire world. The only reason you had even made it through one day was because you had picked play-fights with him, throwing random weeds and clumps of dirt at his apron, trying to make it into his front pocket like it was some sort of game. He had laughed- and by the creators that laugh- and deigned to throw some from his basket right back at you. He'd, of course, had more in his basket than yours. But you could tell he was going slower than normal to begin with, so he wouldn't speed ahead and leave you in his literal dust.

Now, however, you were off work. You were working with Gally now, who was just too sweet no matter what anyone else said. You could see why Ben liked the man, he had a soft spot for people in need, even with his gruff exterior. You let your eyes scan the Glade lazily, looking for Ben through the throng of people. It wasn't until you scanned the whole Glade that you remembered he was a Runner, and his day off didn't coincide with yours. You saw him every time he was off, though. He would always visit Gally and follow him around like a little puppy dog, not working with him but watching him work. Considering Gally said you were 'still in training,' that meant he sat nearby you constantly as well.

You were sitting atop one of the lunch tables, letting your feet dangle off of the side while leaning back on your hands behind you. You suddenly feel the wood under you begin to shake and rattle as someone jumps up onto the table, and you let your head fall backwards to lazily look at Thomas, his upside-down face smiling at you and leaning in awfully close. You can see the sun dance across his eyelashes, making his darker brown eyes alight enough that they seem to melt in swirls- although that could be because your head is rather inverted right now.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" He questions, and you laugh softly as you stare into his mesmerizing earthen eyes. You feel connected, in an odd way- in a way you would've never expected given that you're not from this universe. The thought always sends a jolt of panic through you, but you're tired and languid today, and the thought just coasts away just as easily as the fake, puffy clouds above do.

"You." Your answer is plain and causes a scoff and an eye roll from Thomas.

"I meant, what were you looking at?" You lift your head back up, letting your eyes scan the Glade once more before they, inevitably, land back on Newt. You feel the wood underneath you shimmer and shake, and as you feel a tap on your right upper arm, you casually scoot over enough that Thomas can take a seat next to you, copying your position.

"Newt." Your answer is once again short and to the point. You catch Thomas giving you a quick glance from the corner of your eye, but he turns his head away just as fast before you even begin to consider looking back. Newt bends down, causing the sunlight to glint off of his head at a certain angle, and Thomas raises one hand to block the sun from his eyes before slapping the hand back down once again.

"That all?" Thomas mumbled, though you could hear a hint of something in his voice. You try to parse it out, but the time has passed and he's no longer saying anything else. Plus, you feel really rather tired at the current moment. You've had a long first couple of days of working for Gally, who seems ready to work you to the bone. You'd even thought about just heading over for a day of sleep, but the thought of watching Newt work peacefully felt more compelling at the time.

"He's rather beautiful, isn't he?" Your voice is only a whisper as you say this, and you don't want to turn your head so you try to watch Thomas from the corner of your eye. He doesn't turn either, or act surprised that you had said as much. He almost seems contemplative, tilting his head back and forth before sighing and nodding slowly.

"Yeah."

You don't expect to get anything else out of him, so you finally push yourself up from your straining arms. You turn on the table, lifting one leg on top so you can face Thomas fully. The man looks over at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, and with want of anything else to do, you raise a hand and poke at his muscled arm. "You're a different kind of beautiful, though." You pinch the edge of his sleeve between your fingers, feeling the thin, worn threads and wondering for how long he's been forced to wear this ratty thing. There were little moth-eaten holes along the edges of both his sleeves and the bottom hem, and you wonder whether the creators even care as much about this project anymore. It's been a lot longer than anyone would've expected by this point, you assumed. Especially since this current timeline was nothing like the actual books or movies.

"Yeah?" Thomas repeats himself, though with surprise instead of suppressed longing. You raise your gaze back up to his eyes, letting your hand drop away from his sleeve and land atop his closest hand. You feel his rough skin under your touch, letting your fingers gently graze along his scars and calluses. You nod slowly, staring into his now shadowed eyes as he tilts his head downward toward you- and you only just realize he's beginning to lean in closer.

"Tommy," You begin, feeling the name like a weight on your tongue, like something only one person should be able to say yet here you were, copying Newt when it comes to Thomas, and copying Thomas when it comes to Newt. Who were you to get in the middle of them? "Do you think…" You trail off, letting your eyes unfocus and see through Thomas, your smile settling and numbing into a neutral expression on your face. "Do you think you could find yourself, find love, when you get out of here?" You blink yourself back into reality- this reality, anyway- and let your eyes meet with his confused ones. "Do you think you could let yourself?"

"What," Thomas leans forward even more, taking his free hand from the other side of him and pushing himself onto his side to face you, moving the hand to cup your cheek. "What do you mean? Let myself?" You bite your lip as you stare into his befuddled expression, leaning ever-so-slightly into his hand.

"Tommy," Your whisper is even quieter now, but you can tell he can still hear you. If anything, the way he's so intensely focused on your lips could prove that he'd read them if the sound didn't quite reach his ears. "Let yourself fall. Let yourself have him. It'll make everything so much easier if you have someone to lean on." You raise your hand from its resting place on his own, brushing your fingers through his hair and trying to straighten it into something resembling order, although it was a fool's errand. "You're not alone. In here, or out there."

Thomas drops his hand suddenly, as if burned by your words. You watch him swallow roughly, then turn away and retake his leaned-back position, staring off into space. You continue your light grooming, brushing your fingers through his messy hair and combing it back out of his face. You figured if he wanted you to stop, he'd say so or stop your hand, so you continue on. It wasn't just calming for you, you come to realize, as his shoulders slowly fall from around his neck.

"You know what I did, don't you?" Thomas glances at you for a moment, but it seems like looking at you is too painful so he turns his gaze away once again, downcast.

"You didn't do anything they didn't force you to do."

"How could you even know that?"

You're silent for a few beats, waiting for him to realize. As he sucks in a breath, you believe he remembers your quiet talk from not too long ago, when you had told him you knew of Wicked. He blows his breath back out slowly, raising his shining gaze toward you. You drop your hand from his hair, rubbing a thumb across his cheek and swiping a tear away before anyone else can see it. You lean in close, wrapping your arms around him in a much-needed hug, turning your head to whisper into his ear.

"You're deserving of love, Tommy."

There's talking around you… Quiet whispers, like they're trying to be polite and maintain the status quo so you can stay restful. But- no, you can't. You can't quite remember why, but you need to get up. You need to be up, and- and running. You need to get away, it's not safe, it's not safe-

You groan, and finally something has happened. It's like you're trapped in your own body, but you're slowly gaining your senses back, your facilities back. You try to move your fingers, curl them into a ball, but it's hard. It's getting easier. You groan again, this time aloud, apparently.

“I get that you don’t wanna sleep, but you don’t have to make all that racket, Tommy.”

You try to wiggle your toes, and you feel that tingling sensation that comes when you've sat on your foot for too long and it needs to reawaken itself. You try to wince from the feeling but your face doesn't want to work. You're starting to get annoyed- this is your body, you should be able to move it. That's when it finally registers in your brain, the sound that you'd heard were words. They were Newt's words, Newt's voice- that meant he was here. You needed to see him, why was he in the maze?

"That wasn't me."

The maze! That's right, what happened in the maze? You groan again as images flood your mind's eyes, flashing too fast for you to comprehend, though you don't need to. You lived through it all, you remember. It's too much all at once, and you raise your arm, moving your hand to your face to rub your eyes roughly. When that doesn't stop the images, you open them slowly, blearily. You rest your elbow on the cot and begin to push yourself up to a lean, heavily enough on one side that you drop the other arm back down, leaning then on both elbows. You blink a few times, then look at your surroundings.

You were in the Medjack's hut- that much was for certain, you could tell that even in the dead of night. You'd been here before when it was just as dark before, though with different company. This time, however, your eyes land on Newt, sitting to your left in a rickety, can't-be-comfortable chair, a large book spread across a leg that was draped over the other's knee. His mouth was agape, his eyes hopeful, and it felt like too many emotions to deal with all at once. To your right, on top of another cot but sitting straight up as if ready to spring into action, was Thomas. He looked just as surprised, though not quite as hopeful. He almost looked… Angry? You glance back at Newt one last time before dropping your gaze to your lap, feeling ashamed.

"Sorry…"

"For what?"

"You better be."

They both spoke at the same time, though what surprised you the most was that it was Newt's voice indicating that you should be sorry. Thomas, with his angered expression, didn't seem to understand what you were apologizing for. You keep your eyes lowered as you hear Thomas begin to stammer, likely since Newt shot him a quick glare for his words. "I- I mean," Thomas starts, then just never finishes his sentence. You look up slowly, watching the boys stare at each other as if silently communicating something, before Newt slams his textbook closed, turning his full attention to you. He stands, walking closer to the head of your bed, laying the book down on your nightstand and leaning just slightly over the bed to get a better look at you.

"Are you alright?" You weren't quite expecting those words, at least not so soon following his last ones, and you struggled to keep up with where his mind might be at. You blink a few times, then take a deep breath and look down at your body. You wiggle your toes, watching them move, and raise a hand to feel at your stomach. Nothing hurts- not even your ankle, which you would've assumed would be even worse off than when you first injured it. Confused, you look back up to Newt.

"I- I think so."

"Good," Newt begins, then slaps the side of your arm roughly. You flinch away, staring up at him incredulously. You could hear aggravated cot springs to your right, and you figured Thomas was getting up to get closer to the both of you, but you didn't dare take your eyes off of Newt right now. He looked murderous. "How dare you do something like that to us! How- How dare you just run off into the maze without so much as a good-bye, and then-" He swallows, and you can hear the emotion in his voice, the tinge of anger and sadness and anxiety that you know you put there yourself. "And leave this- this stupid, bloody, shucking letter-" He pulls a square from his pocket, flinging it back and forth as if to unravel it quickly before throwing it down with force onto your bed. It was just a lightweight piece of parchment, however, so it didn't land with even a fraction of the force he used to throw it down with. He places both hands down on your cot, leaning over it and breathing heavily. "Saying you- what, you'd rather die than spend another day in the Glade with us?"

"No," You're quick to defend, shaking your head and widening your eyes, and you can feel tears spring to them but you try to blink them back. This isn't about your feelings, you did this to them- to him. What you feel doesn't matter right now. "No, of course not. I just couldn't bear another second of knowing how to get out of this stupid fucking hell-hole, watching you day by day just give up more and more. I know how to get you out, Newt. I wanted to help!"

"I don't want out if it's not with you!" He yells, and you suck in a breath, the tears blurring your vision until you blink them away, feeling the trails of warmth flow down your cheeks. Thomas has finally made his way around your cot at this point, encircling Newt's shoulders with one arm and pulling him in against his chest. Newt coughs out a sob, turning and burying his face into Thomas' chest. You can feel yourself gaping, your mouth opening and closing like a poor imitation of a fish on land, and you meet Thomas' eyes now that you can no longer see Newt's. He's not angry any longer, you can see in his eyes, but there are questions there that you know you'll have to answer at some point. Whether he's told Newt about Wicked or not- that'll be the deciding factor of whether it's now or later.

"Newt," You whisper, after waiting for his cries to quiet. When he doesn't turn, you can feel your heart twisting and ripping in your chest. "Newt, please." He slowly pulls away from Thomas, and you can see him raise his head enough- and in turn Thomas turns his gaze away from you finally- and their locked eyes must give him enough strength to carry on. He raises a hand to rub roughly at his face, wiping away his own tears before he finally turns back around to face you. He sighs out slowly, then lets his gaze travel over your form before resting on your face once again. He isn't meeting your eyes, rather letting his own eyes rest on your lips, but he reaches out and takes one of your hands into his own.

"Tell me your story, [Y/N]."

You bite your lip, glancing at Thomas and then around the room in search of something. In search of that blinking red light that revealed that Wicked was watching. Except- it's been so long now, hasn't it? They could've developed who-knows-what at this point, they could be watching right now. Was it safe to talk about? Would it ever be safe to talk about? You let your gaze wander back to Newt with a wince, then glance over to Thomas as if pleading with him to understand. Somehow, you think he does. He reaches forward, placing a hand on his forearm and leaning in even closer.

"Newt, I don't know if now is the time."

"Now is most certainly the time, Tommy. I'm not waiting another moment."

"You-" He stutters as Newt turns a sharp glare onto him, but presses forward regardless. "You might need to wait just one more moment. Long enough for us to know that they aren't listening." Newt's face relaxes in understanding, turning back to look at you with an appraising look. Thomas turns to look at you as well, and the way they both stare at you soothes the ache that had been there not but a moment before. Like you were their whole world, just laying there on a medical cot.

"Is there anywhere we could do that?"

It's silent again between the three of you, and you wrack your brain for something- anything. And that's when it finally hits you. It might be a long shot, but as far as you knew Gally hadn't told hardly anyone else about that spot.

"I think I know a place."

You move to get up, pulling the blanket aside and tossing your legs over the left side of your bed. You sit there for a moment, dizziness overtaking you, and you watch Newt reach forward as if to catch you when you wobble unsteadily. You blink a few times, waiting for your vision to return fully before glancing upward. Newt and Thomas took a few steps to the side, as if to give you space to stand, though before you have a chance your hand slips when your gaze lands on another body.

It could only be Chuck, with that body shape under the blanket, and that head of hair at the top. You swallow roughly, turning your head first toward the boys before letting your eyes finally separate from Chuck. You look at them questioningly, and Newt nods, Thomas speaking up quietly.

"He's alright. He woke up earlier, during the day. He's just resting more now, but he's perfectly fine. Something in that blue serum healed him- both of you, it seems, completely." You nod slowly, trying to ingrain his words into your mind so you can calm the worry that spiked from seeing him- from remembering. You push yourself to a stand, and you feel a hand on your shoulder from Newt, and another hand on your waist from Thomas who reaches past Newt to help as well. You can't help the smile that comes to your face from their attempt to help, and you want to lean into them but you need to see for yourself.

You take a step away from their grasp, closer to Chuck's cot. You let yourself lean against it, leaning over Chuck's sleeping body to take a peek at his face. It's covered by his mounds of curled hair, so you reach over and gently pull it to the side. His face is peaceful at rest, something you've always found comforting every time you catch him napping during the day on his days off. You study his sleeping face for a few more moments, watching as his body rises and falls from his breath, before letting his hair drop right back out of your grasp. You turn toward the boys, giving them a soft but guilty smile. "Alright. I'm ready."

It was rather easy to find Gally's secret little hide-away bunker, considering it was at the very corner of the Glade inside the Deadheads. As you circle around what looks to be just a little hill, you come across the flat metal doors of the bunker you knew would be there. It's tied together by some sort of hempen rope, likely just to keep the door closed as it's not very hard to pull the rope out from between the handles. Gally was probably worried if he ever locked it then it would practically become useless when the time came. You drop the rope to the ground, taking one last look around.

You'd been keeping an eye out this whole time, and you thought at one point you saw a blinking flash of red, but it sped in the direction of the Medjack hut, and you hoped that Wicked was too tired and oblivious to notice the three of you heading into the woods. It didn't seem like the rest of the Glade noticed, anyway, considering the majority of them were asleep under their little overhang across the way. You don't notice any more blinking red lights, and your eyes land on Thomas who seems to be doing the same sort of sweep. Once his eyes land on you, and you receive a nod in affirmation that he didn't spot anything either, you pull open the doors and make your way down into the dark hole. While you still had enough light bouncing off of the giant walls into the hole, you located where Gally put the matches and lit a small lantern, just in time for Thomas to close the doors behind the three of you.

You hang the lantern along one of the ropes covering the ceiling, letting it sway above the three of you as you take a seat on a random box nearby. You only realize after you sit that it's the same box you had sat on before, back when Gally had shown you to this spot and became surprisingly vulnerable with you. You shake the memory away, looking up as Newt gingerly takes a seat, sitting on the edge of a box like he's ready to jump up at any moment, but also like he's trying to give you space to be able to speak freely. Thomas, predictably, is too restless to sit, but he does take a few steps away so he's not pacing between the two of you.

"Alright, so…" You begin, but you're not quite sure where to start. Luckily, Newt seems to pick up on that, and he digs out a square piece of folded parchment from his pocket- the letter he had thrown at you not too long ago. You must've missed when he picked it right back up and pocketed it once again. Thomas must've as well, from the surprised look he dons.

"Let's start with this." He tosses it onto the ground between you, and you bite your lip. Truthfully, you barely remember what you even wrote, considering you were in a rush to get it all out before the doors started to close. You blink down at it, then raise your gaze back up to Newt. He gestures toward it with a sigh. "You go ahead and read it, take it step by step. You don't have to read it aloud, I've memorized the words by now." That takes you by surprise, but you heed his advice and push yourself from the box you sit on just long enough to stretch and snatch it from the dirt-covered ground, brushing the stray pieces from the worn parchment. You glance back up at him, slowly unravelling it with a question on your lips.

"How long, exactly, was I out for?"

"Just an extra day. We found you the morning after you entered the maze, injected you with the serum almost immediately- as soon as Clint realized what you'd done to Chuck. Then it was all day and- well, partly into the night until you woke up." Thomas was the one who answered, still pacing back and forth while recounting the story as if in a daze. You swallow, then nod slowly. You finish spreading the paper out in front of you, looking down at the hastily scribbled words on the paper.

'If you're reading this, then I'm dead.'

So much for that. You continue reading, then take a long breath as you try to compose what you would like to say in your head. They're patient- as patient as they can be when their entire life is on the line. Thomas continues to pace, and Newt just stares at the empty ground between you where the letter once lay. The first thing that comes to mind, though, starts with the second paragraph…

"I'm sorry I lied to you, Tommy."

He freezes in his steps, and as you glance over to watch him, you can see Newt react similarly in his seat. He freezes, then slowly looks up and looks between the two of you. You wait for Thomas to do something, to say something, but he stands there as if you've just given him grave news. Eventually, when it seems as if you won't elaborate, he sighs and roughly rubs his face with his hands. He turns toward you, crossing his arms with a stern expression. "For lying about working for them?"

"I never once said I worked for them," You counter, raising a hand. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I explicitly said I did not work for them." You watch as Thomas freezes, then pulls his brows together like he's trying to remember your conversation. He hesitates, slowly uncrossing his arms.

"You… You did say that, but…" He hesitates, then huffs a disapproving breath, shaking his head. "But how could you know so much without working for them? Surely you remember by now?"

"I-" You swallow roughly, then glance down. "That's what I'm sorry about. I lied about how I remember so much. I knew, at the time. It was just…" You close your eyes, then squeeze them together, raising your fists to cover them. "The truth sounds more far-fetched than working for Wicked, trust me."

"Wicked?" Newt questions, and as you release your hold on your eyes you finally let yourself look at him. He looks confused, and pissed off for being confused, and both you and Thomas realize at the same time that you should be including him in this. In all of it. It's Thomas who speaks first, clarifying.

"The creators. They're a- a company? Named Wicked. The letters that come up on the box, W C K D. It's an abbreviation for Wicked." Newt swallows roughly, then waves a hand as if messily saying to carry on. You turn your attention back toward Thomas, though it seems as though he's lost his fight now, moving to take a seat on a box near Newt, across from you. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and takes a deep breath before looking up at you. "Fine. I understand you think it's not going to be believable. But starting with that is enough. You tell us the truth, and no matter what it is, we'll believe you."

You blink a few times, then wonder if he really means that. And you mean really means that, after he hears what you have to say. You didn't write it in your letter, technically. You'd hinted at it, sure, but the reality of the truth is so much heavier, so much harder to accept. You bite your lip, looking between the two boys you realize you have fallen in love with, and wonder how exactly they'll react. Perhaps they'll find you so unbelievable that they won't just leave you forever, but completely ignore your valid way of escaping out of this place. Although… Maybe they shouldn't leave… Nothing else could happen if they stay here, if they continue to live in this place that supplies them fresh food and water, that keeps them safe from the sickness.

But that's not fair, for you to choose for them.

"I think the easiest way to explain it- is that I'm from another universe." You give it a second, waiting for them to interrupt or berate you, to ask you to tell the truth. After they just stare at you, waiting for you to continue on and explain what you mean, you begin to feel a warmth fill your chest. It seems as if, for now, they're willing to believe whatever it is you say. "Everything here, all of this. You, both of you-" You hesitate at this part, taking a long breath in before blowing it back out, nodding. "This is all just a book series to me. Or- was. It all was a book series, until I woke up in that elevator."

"Did you remember everything right away?" Newt questions, his expression open and not-disbelieving. You blink for a moment, taken aback by his specific question, considering any other he could be asking. But, you assure yourself, if he's asking questions like this then that means he believes you- or at least, is trying to.

"Not right away. And," You glance between the both of them with a smile, "Not when I remembered my name either. It came slowly, over time. Dreams, and memories hit me out of nowhere. I didn't know what was happening at first until I had a dream, I think about a week in?"

"Oh," Thomas interrupts, sitting up straighter with a thoughtful look. "I- I think I remember that one. You had said something like," He huffs out a breath, staring unseeing at the ground as he tries to remember. "You asked me why I was still here? That I was supposed to get out by now?" You nod along, then tilt your head back and forth in contemplation before sighing.

"I think it was the night after that one, actually. That had been a flashback, a memory of the books but it hadn't been what alerted me to my situation. The next night, I woke up from a weird dream and knew then. But no one else had been up, and I took a little walk around." You sigh once again, shaking your head. "Not the point."

"What did you mean, then? If you remember?" Newt asks, unmoving from his current lean forward, his elbows on his knees as he studies you, hands clasped together. "When you asked Tommy why he was still here?" You suck in a breath, nodding.

"Yeah, so, that's the thing. This is all pretty reminiscent of that book series, but it's not quite the same. In the books," You nod toward Thomas, growing worried about how he might react to this information. "When Tommy got sent up, he was pretty quickly after attacked by Ben."

"Ben?" Thomas questions, and you can understand the confusion between both boys. You nod along, taking a deep breath.

"So, Ben had been stung in the maze. No one knew how it had happened, or why. But he ended up- well, going crazy." The two of them nod, sharing glances as if they knew exactly what you were talking about. You supposed they would, at this point. "So, when he attacked you- and no one knew how to cure it- well…"

"He was banished." Newt completes your sentence as if this was obvious, nodding along. Thomas shuffles in his seat restlessly, leaning back and raising a hand to run it through his hair roughly. It's pretty obvious he doesn't enjoy this story so far, but you doubt he'd enjoy any of it, to be honest.

"Yeah. That kinda kick-started the whole thing." The boys look confused, so you continue without prompting. "Alby and Minho went to go check around the maze, and they thought they came across a dead Griever. Apparently, it had only pretended to be dead, and stung Alby." You watched as Thomas leaned forward again quickly, paying close attention. "They escaped it, somehow, and Minho was helping Alby get back to the Glade but they were running late. They weren't going to make it. So," You look over to him, nodding, "Tommy ran in."

"Of course he would," Newt mutters under his breath, leaning back finally and slumping his shoulders in defeat.

"The three of them got locked in the maze at night. That's how Tommy was able to kill a Griever for the first time. It was-" You stare off into space, images of your night in the maze flashing before your eyes. "You just use the maze against them. Let the stone crush them, or trick them into jumping off the edge of a cliff. Things like that."

"That's what you did, then?" Thomas asks, and you finally come to, looking up to meet his stern gaze. You nod again, agreeing, and watch him sigh out slowly.

"After you all escaped the maze and gave Alby the Grief serum-"

"The what?" Newt interrupts, his brows furrowing.

"The blue serum, the one that I gave Chuck?"

"Grief serum," Newt mutters to himself again, then takes a deep breath and nods to indicate you can continue.

"Minho and Tommy went back in. Found the dead Griever, pulled the stinger out-" You hesitate here, then look at them sharply. "Wait, where's my backpack? It had the stinger in there, right?" Newt nods, but Thomas is the one who speaks up with exhaustion.

"Minho took the bag, and the stinger. We read the letter out to him, so he began trying to solve that puzzle you mentioned immediately." You nod along, letting out a breath of relief.

"Good, that's good." You look back down at the letter, scanning it quickly to see if you were forgetting anything. You reach the bottom of the page, swallowing roughly at what you had written there. As if reading your thoughts, Newt's calm voice speaks up once again.

"There's still a few more questions I have about that letter." You nod, already knowing what he might ask. You hear it anyway; "Why did you warn us about Gally? To take the shot?" An ache begins in your chest, having written out that they shouldn't trust him. He's obviously different now than in the books… Was that Ben's doing? Was his exile the reason Gally had become so hard and distant in the books?

"I don't know why I wrote that," You whisper, but Newt interrupts just as quickly.

"We need to know, [Y/N]."

"In the books," You take a deep breath, placing the letter to your side on the box, looking back up at them with a guilty expression. "Look, you have to keep in mind that Ben was exiled, Tommy was made a runner almost immediately; his entire world was falling apart."

"[Y/N],"

"Gally didn't want to leave the Glade," You begin, letting your eyes fall back to the ground so you can try and remember things fully. "He tried to stay, and tried to convince others to stay with him. He was pretty successful, about half of what remained of the Glade stayed. But, they were all killed when the Grievers attacked again. At this point, the doors weren't closing at night-" You stop, raising your hands to rub your face roughly. "I don't know how I'm going to explain everything to you, it's all such a mess."

"It's okay," Thomas murmurs, his voice trying to be gentle. "Just try."

"Wicked didn't like that you found the stringer, or perhaps just didn't like that you were in the maze at all, Tommy. They sent Teresa in, said she was the last one ever. This wasn't but a week or two after you came up. After she was up, the doors stopped closing. It was a race to the exit, otherwise everyone would die at night when the Grievers attacked. Alby sacrificed himself that first night so that you all could survive." You let out a breath, raising your eyes to them. They were both understandably horrified, and you shrug with a humourless laugh. "I guess Gally making this bunker would've worked out better back then."

"And Gally still wanted to stay? After the doors didn't close?"

"He thought we'd- well, you had angered the 'creator's, and wanted to sacrifice Tommy to the maze. But he had too many friends, and a good bit of Gladers, including you, Newt, helped him out of his binds and escaped into the maze to leave. Some came with, some stayed behind with Gally." You sighed, leaning your head back on your shoulders. "So, Gladers that stayed behind died, Gally chased after you all. He had been stung, I think? Either that, or he was losing everything and had nothing left. He was pointing a gun at Tommy, trying to hold him accountable for everything that happened."

"I wouldn't blame him," Thomas muttered under his breath, which caused both you and Newt to look at him sharply. Newt spoke up before you could, however.

"Don't say that." He lets out a slow breath, waiting for Thomas to meet his eyes before continuing. "Do not start blaming yourself for something that never even happened." Thomas blinks a few times, as if coming to this realization. This really hadn't happened, not in this timeline anyway. After Thomas takes another deep, calming breath, they both nod and turn their attention back to you.

"He shot the gun," You immediately say, watching Thomas flinch. This next part, even just the thought, hurts you to say. "But, Chuck jumped in front."

"That's why you said protect Chuck," Newt mutters once more, and you nod.

"He killed him. Chuck died trying to protect Tommy, and I just… I couldn't have that happen again." You let your eyes fall from them, staring at that spot on the ground once again that you've become so accustomed to so far through this conversation. "I said not to hesitate so maybe Chuck wouldn't get hurt. There's a spear, I think? Maybe- maybe Minho threw it? I can't quite remember, but it pierced Gally and everyone thought he was dead."

"Thought?" Newt asks softly, and you scoff out a laugh, shaking your head.

"That turns into a long story. But no, he didn't die." It's quiet again, and you don't quite blame them. It's a lot to take in, but even just trying to remember what happened in the books is getting harder and harder as you live through this life. You think perhaps they're trying to reconcile what you know versus what has actually happened in their lives. Maybe they were trying to figure out what happened along the way to stop all of these events from occurring. You knew you had always wondered, this whole time. It's a few minutes before Newt finally breaks the silence, his voice tired and grave.

"So why did you say Tommy is the cure?"

#newt x thomas x reader #wip: apricity #mutual pining #explanations #x reader fanfiction #multichaptered fic #newt x reader #thomas x reader #second pov

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heythereflyboy · 28 days ago

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Misty Blue (Kate Lockwood x Reader) Chapter 11

Chapter 11: May 2025 - The Cathedral of St. John the Divine

It would’ve been easier for you if she were angry. or even cold and frustrated as you, but the expression in her eyes was clear as day. They were green and tired and sharper than anything you had a right to still miss. She was tired, and that was somehow worse.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” she said, and it sounded like grief finally speaking its name.

You exhaled. “You mean firing me? Or Bob dying?”

She flinched.

Good.

You weren’t in the mood to spare her anymore. You didn’t want to hurt her. But God, you were already hemorrhaging for far too long.

Read on AO3

#you series #kate galvin #kate lockwood #kate lockwood x reader #you netflix fanfiction #you netflix spoilers #you season 5 #joe goldberg #netflix you #original female character #original character #charlotte ritchie #second pov

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toomanyfandoms04 · 2 months ago

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To Be Loved (Yoonho Baek x Reader) 5

Under 18 and Ageless blogs will be blocked.

Content warning: Stalking, attempted assault, protective!Yoonho Baek

Chapter 5

Conventions are very loud, very crowded, and very expensive.

The convention center was split into three areas. The smallest area in the center of the mess was the food court. Many American classics were served, along with some exotic tastes.

Breakfast the first day consisted of an oatmeal bowl with fruits for you, and 5 corndogs for Baek. You teased your boss for his unique taste for breakfast food.

The two other sections were about the same size. One side was the weapons and the other side was armor. Scatter through the entire convention were booths with recruiters, technology specialists, and one weird religion booth.

Today, the first official day that the convention was open, you, Baek, Stanley, and Shane, all explored the weapons room.

You were shocked at the variety of weapons offered. There were hundreds of racks full of swords, axes, shield, daggers, bows, arrows, crossbows, and to your surprise, guns.

Apparently, the Government of the United States used a majority of their crystal resources from the mines in manufacturing special bullets that can take down monsters from the portals. After the initial appearance of the portals, the government prioritized the manufacturing of weapons for its military.

In the United States, there are many private hunter’s guilds. The most lucrative and dangerous path to take is to join the United States military. They are involved with all S rank dungeons and often secure the parameter around the portal. The humans in the military are armed with the specialized guns.

If only they got their shit together before my family died.

The weapons all had a varying amount of enchantments on them. Some added to the strength of the user, other took strength from the monsters. Fire, ice, and other enchantments were on the shields, swords, and arrows.

As your boss lead the group from booth to booth, you accepted all of the packets filled with descriptions of weapons and the manufacturers. You mark down which specific weapons or shields Baek showed interest in before storing the heavy amounts of paper in your bag. At booths that peeked your boss’s interest, he would gesture for you to exchange business cards with the booth owners.

During the entire day at the convention, you noticed your boss keeping you at a strict arm’s length away. You know both the conversations and actions from the both of you stepped over the professional to personal line.

You partially scold yourself for feeling hurt by Baek’s actions and behavior today. You had to actual reason to feel sad. Mr. Baek is your boss.

Granted, he was very protective of you and still acts like a total gentleman. You probably feel the way you do because of how long its been since a man had treated you right.

Yeah. That’s it.

Mr. Baek is just being a good boss. You’re just too touch starved and deprived of proper human treatment to the point of professional and personal lines get blurry.

Yoonho Baek is disappointed in his own actions. He knows that you have a boyfriend. Baek should not have touched you last night; he especially should not have touched himself last night.

I am an S-rank Hunter and the chairman of a guild. I should have more discipline!

Through his inner turmoil, Baek couldn’t bring himself to regret any of his actions.

You had consumed an entire bottle of wine last night. Your inebriated state (and possibly naivety) would have left you to be prey to those tow men last night.

Baek was simply performing his duty as a gentleman and protecting you from those creeps. He will admit he got a bit handsy, but in his defense, so did you.

As your group eats lunch (you devour deep fried mozzarella on a stick), Baek takes in your attire for today.

You had on a black pair of slacks, some name brand lace up shoe (he think the brand starts with a C), and a dark orange sweater.

Baek, Stanley, and Shane all opted for tee-shirts.

Maybe you get cold quickly?

As the day goes on, your bag gets heavier and the crowds get thinner. You continue to trail behind your boss.

Stanley and Shane are spread out, establishing a constantly changing parameter.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of familiar long brown hair.

You turn to get a better look, and sure enough, Tyler and Alex were moving towards you and Baek.

You elbow your boss to get his attention. You smile and wave at Tyler and Alex, but Baek’s hand grabs yours and drags you away from the approaching people.

Practically sprinting, you both weave through the crowd until you enter a congested area.

Baek drops your hand and you look up to him, puzzled. His red eyes give you a silent warning, to not touch the subject.

You not the pronounced vein in Baek’s neck, throbbing against his tan skin.

Last night must have been worse than what I remember.

Your group gets tinner to take back to the hotel. Baek was unusually quiet.

It was almost like he was brooding.

Now, you are sitting in your room with Jean on Facetime. Officially, you are scanning all of the documents and sending them to Jean. Jean is on the phone with you to help you with the documenting process and to tell you when she receives your files.

Unofficially, you and Jean are talking about your boss.

“I’m telling you. A normal boss would never casually massage an employee’s neck. Unless the boss in question is a masseuse or chiropractor. But that’s beside the point.” Jean tosses her straight blonde hair over her should, readjusting in her office chair.

“Still, it was a very nice thing for him to do. Especially with how he stopped those men from staring at me.” You press send as you think back to his warm hands on your back.

“Well, that just proves my point that your bar of expectations is literally in Hell. Any decent man should preserve any woman’s modesty. Document 37 just came through/” You hum in acknowledgement.

“I do need to ask you something.” You look up from your work to see Jean grinning at your through the phone.

“Yes?” By her smirk you know what direction your conversation will be going.

“You have to have seen how big he is! Come on, he was in wet pants for goodness sake!” You shake your head, refusing to give her any more fuel for her inappropriate fire.

“Oh! What about when you were grabbing his leg? You happen to grab on to his third leg?” Your hands are covering your face to hide the deep red blush covering your face.

“I didn’t touch anything, Jean. Can we get back to doing our work? Please?” Jean cackles at your embarrassment, reluctantly agreeing to do her job.

You both stayed on the phone until all of the documents were scanned, sent, and organized in the database.

After showering, you drag your tired body to bed. You got some much-needed sleep that night.

On the other side of the shared wall, Yoonho Baek was doing work of his own. His primary focus was telling the security guards to keep those two men away from you.

Baek had a hard time falling asleep that night. His gut kept telling him that something was wrong. He hasn’t been able to shake that feeling ever since meeting Alex yesterday.

Stanley and Shane took shifts that night, guarding your door.

Neither of them could see the silent figure watching their every move.

Waiting.

Planning.

The second day at the convention started the same as the first day. After breakfast, you would follow your boss, accepting papers and handing out business cards.

The armor available came in just as much variety as the weapons. Cloaks, shields, shoulder pads, jewelry, helmets, pants, and even underwear were all made to protect the wearer in come way, shape, or form.

The enchantments all varied as well. Some simply produced a physical shield around the wearer. Others prevent extreme heat or extreme cold from affecting the wearer. Others can induce a wall of flames, make you invisible, or even affect the way you perceive your environment.

While at one of the last booths before dinner, Baek noticed your attention drawn to an amulet.

There was a small purple crystal (resembling an amethyst) surrounded by intricate gold pattern. The amulet was hung on a short gold chain.

The design of the amulet made it look like a normal necklace.

As Baek was searching for an excuse for you to move on from the table without him, you spoke up to save him the trouble.

“If you’ll excuse me; I need to use the lady’s room.” You step away from the booth and move to the restroom.

Baek locks eyes with Shane and signals for the security guard to follow you. His gut feeling from last night never went away.

I need to keep her safe.

“I saw ye’ woman eying up this here pendant. Would ye’ like to take a look at it?” Baek felt no urge to correct the booth owner of his mistake.

“Yes, please.” The amulet is set in Baek’s hand. “What enchantments does it have?” Baek questions, admiring the shine of the stone.

“The stone has a varying protection enchantment with an increased perception addition. If an S-rank hunter such as yourself would wear this, you would get an S-rank amount of protection.” Baek’s eyes grow in shock from being recognized.

“Aye, I do know ye’. I got a list of all the guilds, worldwide! I’d be happy to expand my trade into Korea, Hunter Baek.” The man behind the booth continues his sales pitch.

“If yer’ woman were to wear this, she would only be protected from human threats.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “The perception ability would increase her awareness to threats. That would be the most useful part for ye woman.” Yoonho Baek made the transaction with his personal card, thank the booth owner by exchanging business cards.

As you finish up using the bathroom, you fix your hair in the mirror. Today’s time at the convention took less time than yesterday. Mr. Baek knew what type of protection he was looking for today; yesterday he was looking at every weapon type.

Maybe you’ll have enough time to get ice cream tonight. Dairy Queen’s cupcake counds really good right now.

Your eyes catch movement by the closed door of the restroom. You turn around and look to see who was there, but there is no one.

These movements have been happening all day. It first started when you left your room this morning. The weird movements continued to stay in your peripheral vision while walking around the convention center.

You refrain from telling Mr. Baek, he seemed stressed enough as it is. His attitude hadn’t improved.

I don’t need to make him worry more about me. He has already done enough.

You try and shake the weird feeling as you return to Mr. Baek. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Shane following you.

You assume Mr. Baek told Stanley and Shane to follow you because of what happened with Alex and Tyler last night.

The four of you meet at the food court and get your dinners. Mr. Baek suggests taking the food to go and eat in your rooms.

You agree with your boss’s decision, but you wanted to spend some more time with him. He has been acting cold towards you all day.

Surely it wasn’t from something I did last night?

Regardless, you take your dinner (steak kebab with French fries on the side) and walk back to the room. Mr. Baek says in front of you while Shane and Stanley follow behind you.

As you unlock your room, a hand on your shoulder stops you from stepping inside.

“Wait. I got you the necklace you were looking at earlier.” Mr. Baek holds out a velvet sinched bag for you to take.

“You didn’t have to do that!” You exclaim, as Baek practically shoves the gift into your open hand.

“Please, I insist. Consider it an apology for what happened last night.” He shuffles back to give you space.

“The way you acted last night didn’t bother me at all. It was those men that sent me the creeps. And besides, they were fighting with you for the most part.” You shrug your shoulders, try to not make a big deal over what happened.

“But I shouldn’t have acted like such a dick in front of you. I especially shouldn’t have touched-“ Yoonho Baek was interrupted by his phone ringer.

He sighs and checks the caller id. Chairman Go.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, I need to take this.” Yoonho’s guilt turns worse when you smile at him and usher him to his room.

“It’s okay, I understand. Enjoy your dinner!” You enter your room.

After you finish eating your dinner, you face time Jean to send her the documents you received today.

Your rhythm is the same. You focus on scanning documents, Jean focuses on setting you up with your boss or asking inappropriate questions about the man.

Eventually, you get done with your job and say good night to Jean.

You had enough time to get some ice cream.

You glance at the bag holding your gifted necklace, debating on putting it on.

Deciding against it, you pull on your coat and text your boss for the business card to get ice cream.

Yoonho replies, saying that Shane already has the card, and to go with him.

So you do. You both venture from the hotel and walk to the Dairy Queen a block away. The brisk air almost deters you from getting your sweet, but you power through for the nostalgia.

Waiting in line for your ice cream was short, but you received many questioning looks.

Probably because of the man who looks like secret service beside you.

You successfully secure your ice cream and make the cold trek back to the hotel. You take note of any interesting stores along the way, just incase you get some time during the day too look around.

Once you arrive back at the hotel, Shane escorts you to your room, leaving you to devour your sweet treat.

You savor the flavor as you watch a random movie on the tv. The nostalgia floods your memories, bringing you back to the days when your family was alive.

You got your sweet tooth from your dad, who would always find an excuse to have something sweet. Your mom was a bit more health conscious, but she couldn’t say no to ice cream.

Dairy Queen knew your order by heart when they would hear your young voice through the drive through speakers.

You tear up at the happy memories.

I miss my family. I wish they were here now, maybe they could visit me if they were alive.

Shaking your head, you clear the negative thoughts.

Once you finish your ice cream, you throw away the container.

You want to get showered, but the necklace bag catches your eyes.

Maybe you’ll put it on, see how it feels.

You pull the delicate chain from the velvet bag and feel its weight on your palm.

This is too much.

You unclasp the chain and place the necklace on yourself.

Turning to the mirror, you look at your appearance.

The purple crystal sits in the middle of your chest, just below the hollow of your neck. You like the way it looks. The gold chain and decorative metal around the crystal complement your skin tone.

Like it or not, the necklace looks good on you.

That still doesn’t justify Mr. Baek spending money on me. Even if it is just an apology gift.

You decide to keep the necklace on until you get undressed for your shower.

As you are sitting your pajamas out on your bed, you suddenly feel a cold chill run down your spine.

There is no AC running or windows open.

Your head whips around as you look around your room.

An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

You try and shake off the feeling as you move into the bathroom to start your shower.

You trust your gut and check the closet in your room and under the sink in your bathroom.

No one is in my room. I’m just paranoid.

You turn on the water for your shower and leave the bathroom, letting the water heat up.

Moving into the main room, you go to pick up your pjs when you hear it.

The latch on your door just shut.

Your head whips to the door, your heart is racing.

I got back to my room 30 minutes ago. I know I shut my door and it locked because Shane did it for me.

What the fuck is going on?

You walk towards the door slowly.

Step by step the feeling of dread in your stomach increases along with your heart rate.

The voice in your head is screaming for you to get out of your room.

Your hand rests on the handle and you jiggle it.

Yeah, it’s shut. Maybe I’m going insane?

The gut feeling keeps getting worse, but you shake it off.

You turn to go back into the bathroom and that’s when you see it.

The movement that you have been seeing all day.

It’s in your room.

Your hand immediately goes back to the door handle and you wrench it open as you feel something brush against your back.

Slamming your door shut, you sprint to Mr. Baek’s door and start slamming your fist against the wood.

Seconds later Yoonho Baek is standing in front of you, concern written all over his face.

You get flustered by his appearance and forget how to talk for a second.

Mr. Baek has a very short towel around his waist, water dripping from his hair and down his chest.

He says your name, a hand cupping your flushed face.

“Someone is in my room.” As you say those words, you watch as your bosses eyes turn bright yellow and he turns to face your room.

“I’ve been seeing movement out of the corner of my eye all day and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to be more of a hassle than I already am and –“ Yoonho stops your rambling by pushing you into his room.

“Stay here. Don’t open the door unless it’s me. Throw the dead bolt.” His left hand grips the towel tighter around his waist as he moves to your room.

Listening to your boss, you quickly move into his room and slam the dead bolt locked.

Seconds later you hear the sound of your door slamming open, the percussion echoing through your room.

You pace the room, your hands running through your hair as you listen to the painful grunts and shouts entering through the walls.

It’s a small chance that Mr. Baek is on the receiving end of those blows, but you still worry since it is a chance.

The grunts turn to whimpers until you can no longer hear the commotion.

A knock sounds at the door and you run over to look through the peep hole.

Mr. Baek is standing there, his chest heaving.

Your hands move the dead bolt and open the door. Baek is quick to move inside. You immediately notice the blood speckled across Yoonho’s face and chest.

Both of his hands cup your face and then quickly move to feel both of your arms and legs.

“He didn’t touch you, did he? Are you hurt?” His yellow eyes scan your body, looking for any injury.

“N-no. I felt something brush m-my back when I ran out of my room.” Your body is shaking from the adrenaline rush, your vocal cords are no exception.

“I dealt with him. Security will handle him where I left off. From now on, you’re staying with me, got it?” Yoonho cups your face, making sure you make eye contact with him.

“Understood.” He nods his head, taking in your shaking body when his eyes land on the pendant.

“Don’t take off this pendent. Ever. It saved your life.” He touches the purple stone, his hand resting on your chest.

“Oh, okay.” Your body continues to shake and your teeth chatter, breaking Yoonho’s train of thought.

“I’ll get your things. Wait here.” Your boss moves out the door again, the towel sagging low on his waist.

If it weren’t for the shock of what just happened, you would be taking in the sight more.

Mr. Baek returns with your bags and all of your clothes in a few minutes. He sets all of your things along side his own on top of the desk.

“Go shower, I need to make sure things are taken care of.” Mr. Baek ushers you into the bathroom with your toiletries and pajamas.

You spend a long time under the hot water. Eventually your body stopped shaking and exhaustion hit you all at once.

Stepping out of the shower, you dress in your pj’s and brush your teeth.

You walk out of the bathroom to see your boss sitting on the bed, typing furiously on his phone.

He looks up as you approach the bed. You notice his eyes finally shift back to their normal red.

Yoonho stands and you noticed that he changed into a pair of shorts.

“I’m sorry, but the hotel staff is dealing with the broken door and can’t get a separate bed in here tonight.”

“I don’t mind sharing a bed.” You hum as you move to the other side of the bed.

“Oh, okay.” You lay down in bed, pulling up the covers.

You’re eyes are heavy as you lull into a deep sleep.

The last thing you remember is a heavy warmth slipping around your waist.

Chapter 6

#fanfic #solo leveling #baek yoonho #solo leveling fanfic #solo leveling x reader #toomanyfandoms04 writes #anime #baek yoonho x reader #Protective Yoonho Baek #second pov #I think eating ice cream in the cold winter is a top tier activity #yoonho baek

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lotusarchon · 4 months ago

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happy valentine's day everyone, here's a lil something for y'all

In another universe, or another lifetime, or whatever timeline that exists, Nezha would be your boyfriend.

In another universe, Nezha would be the one at your side. You would hold hands and share secret smiles, inside jokes that only the two of you would know. He would embrace you as his own, perhaps even allow you to meet his family, his mother, even. The two of you would be inseperable.

In another universe, lifetime, or timeline, he would shower you with his adoration, worship the very ground that you walk on.

And maybe it does exist. Maybe there's another universe where you're together, and he steals you away from your horrible family.

Maybe you both meet earlier, centuries before the current time. Maybe you'd have been his friend, a sweet girl from next door ready to join him in his mischief. Maybe you would've clung to his sides as he played in mud puddles and terrorized the other children.

And, maybe, you'd both have run away together, if you still belonged to the same family. You, the wretched fourth sister princess and him, the child of a mere general.

Maybe your families would've had an arrangement, where you'd be his betrothed.

Not that it would've mattered.

Perhaps, you would've been the one to take the initiative. Maybe one day, you'd have been running around the seashore, collecting shells. You'd have a bracelet made of the prettiest shells he'd found, handcrafted by Nezha himself with old thread he stole from his mother's courtyard. They'd be green and blue, specifically, to match your pretty green eyes.

You would've spoken up first. Asked him, aren't you tired of this boring old routine?

And he would've responded, well, sure. But what else could either of you do but let fate take it's course?

Unless, he would've added, placing another shell into your open hand. You had something in mind, maybe?

He could envision you smiling, your freckled cheeks flushed a shade darker, your hands clenched around his gift.

Well, you might've said. You did have a little idea, and then you'd scoot closer to him, till your knees bumped against his, and he could see the dirt smudged on your cheek. And maybe you'd lean over, gingerly fixing a crooked ribbon in his hair. What if you both ran away together? Far, far away, from responsibilities and all that stuff.

And oh, he would've said, thinking. Maybe he could write his mom a short letter, so she wouldn't feel sad. And you could write to your uncle, if you wanted. Maybe say something silly, like perhaps you were both eloping, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Sure, he'd answer you. We could run away to my master's cave. And we can stay there, and do all kinds of stuff. I heard his friend has two disciples, and one of them is a cute girl like you. But then he'd add, she's not half as pretty as you though, just to watch your face light up.

And together you two would've planned. Maybe you'd have actually done it, run far away from this place. Or, perhaps you wouldn't have succeeded, and your parents would've caught you, and you'd have both been dragged back by the ear to be yelled and scolded at.

Maybe, in that time, you'd be there to mourn his death, and to be happy when he came back. Maybe, aside from his mother, you would've been the one person to understand his pain and unhappiness, and….and you'd be there. You'd be with him.

….

Not in this universe though.

This universe, your heart belongs to someone else.

Maybe, those other timelines exist, but in this one….in this one, you've found your happiness with someone else. A mere delivery boy, the Monkey King's protege.

He still loves you, that much is a given.

But he knows, unironically, that in this lifetime, you're not his.

No. You're in love with that boy. Wukong's student. A sweet kid who's a bit too much like his mentor, at times, but his heart is in the right place.

And he cares for you. MK clearly loves you as much as you love him.

So….

So what? It's not fair that he has to suffer, that he's not allowed to pour his heart out to you, beg you to stay with him, to love him as he loves you. It's not fair that he has to suffer with these suffocating feelings, but yet…

….

Nezha's used to making sacrifices for the people he loves. He knows when to give up.

And he'd much prefer to watch you from afar and ache inside than to never have you at all.

In another life, maybe he would be the one you looked to with such affection.

Just, not this one.

I never said it would be fluff :3

#◟ ✟．lotuswine #lego monkie kid x y/n #lego monkie kid nezha #lego monkie kid x reader #reader insert #second pov #lmk nezha #nezha x reader #lmk nezha x reader #drabble #lmk drabble #monkie kid nezha #implied #lmk mk x reader #mk x reader #hehwhahdha #nezha lmk #giggles and twirls my hair

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kahlan1111 · 1 year ago

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trust fund, baby

— in which i’m inspired by gacha life music videos LOLLLLLL 😄🙏

— not even joking btw but i love unguys also idk how to set up tumblr posts sigh

looking at you was like the rainbow after a storm. a harsh, bruising storm. you are his medicine. i mean, look at you! he doesn’t care about the dirt on your jeans. thinks it adds a little flavour, you know? anyhow, he didn’t care about the whispers and murmurs that you were just using him. heck, he’s asked you to. but that’s for another time.

in this moment where you’re fixing a car, he knows that you can fix him. tinker with him a little and he’s complete. dwelling in your presence has done enough. your oil painted hands skilfully move around, eyes concentrated as black dusts your face. he’s not sure what it is, but you look hot.

“‘toru,” you mumble, pausing as you tie your hair up. he could faint. sure he’s the strongest, but in your hands he’s putty. “mhm?” he hums in response, completely dazed. you laugh, and he falls all over again. “stop starin’ at me like you’re fawning over the simple act of fixing a car.” oh, but he is. he could watch you for a lifetime if it meant getting a glance of your perfect being.

he’s dumb for you. it really should be the other way around�� just yesterday was he confessed to by… what was it? 5 girls? you’re a quiet one, though your hilariously terrifying sound of a laugh can silence an assembly of people. another thing he loves about you, he notes. he doesn’t notice when you stand up, because his mind wanders elsewhere. “‘toru.”

he blinks, and you’re in front of him.

HELP GIYS IDK WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS it’s just fluff but noniooe like satoru my mind keeping’s wandering ugh it’s 1:05 am i should go to sleep 😓😓😓

#i love big men #gojo satoru #jjk #second pov #woof woof #this is what makes us girls #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk fluff #fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #no use of y/n #yayyy #idk man #ermmm what the scallop #okay bye

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lyn31 · 3 months ago

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Campus Fair (Zayne/MC)

Summary

A chaotic campus fair, a stubborn bet, and one disastrously spicy decision—all under Zayne’s unimpressed yet undeniably fond gaze.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader College AU, fluff, banter, silly, chaos, games, cute.

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The second you step onto the fairgrounds, your eyes light up. The entire campus is buzzing with neon lights, game stalls, and the mouthwatering scent of deep-fried food. Students weave through the crowd, arms full of plushies and snacks, laughter echoing in the air.

Meanwhile, Zayne looks like he just clocked into a nine-hour shift.

“You’re actually excited for this,” he notes, sipping his caramel macchiato like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Obviously,” you scoff, dragging him forward without hesitation. “What, are you too sophisticated for a campus fair?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

You roll your eyes. “You say that now, but I will get you to have fun.”

He hums, clearly unconvinced, but follows anyway.

Your first target? The game stalls.

You zero in on a ring toss booth, eyes set on a massive stuffed animal hanging from the top shelf. “I need that.”

Zayne follows your gaze, unimpressed. “You do realize these are rigged?”

“Coward talk.”

He exhales slowly, but before he can walk away, you grab his wrist. “Wait—let’s make a bet.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“If I win,” you smirk, “you have to wear something ridiculous for the rest of the night.”

Zayne glances at the rack of bunny ear headbands.

He crosses his arms. “No.”

You grin. “Yes.”

“No.”

“You scared?” you taunt. “Afraid I’ll actually beat you?”

That gets him. Zayne exhales but you catch the split-second hesitation before he reaches for his wallet. “And if I win?”

You pause, then shrug. “You get to pick the prize.”

A slow, knowing smirk curls at his lips. You suddenly regret everything.

Five minutes later, Zayne, as it turns out, is suspiciously good at stall games.

“You have got to be cheating,” you accuse as he lands another perfect shot.

He pockets his winnings with an infuriatingly calm look. “Steady hands,” he says, as if it’s that simple.

“Okay, surgeon.” You fold your arms. “What are you picking?”

Zayne considers the selection of prizes. Your eyes drift toward the giant plush, already mentally preparing to claim it—

Then, right in front of you, he reaches for the tiniest, most pathetic key chain-sized plush.

He plucks it off the rack and hands it to you.

You stare at it. Then at him.

“…This,” you say slowly, “is what you chose?”

He meets your deadpan stare with smug amusement. “You have to carry it around all night.”

You gape at the insultingly tiny plush.

You glance back at the massive stuffed animal you actually wanted.

You squint at Zayne.

“…You did this on purpose.”

He says nothing, but the ghost of a smirk is enough confirmation.

Your eye twitches. “I hate you.”

Zayne is already walking away, annoyingly pleased with himself. “No, you don’t.”

You glare after him, but he’s not even looking at you—his gaze has shifted, subtle but deliberate, toward a nearby food stall. It takes you a second to realize what’s caught his attention.

Of course. The cake stand.

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Zayne still has a funnel cake with him. You have no idea how it’s lasted this long—he’s been casually picking at it since the food stalls, unfazed by everything else. Even now, as you step into the haunted house, he takes another bite like this is just a casual evening stroll.

You, on the other hand, actually try to enjoy the atmosphere. It’s a typical setup—cardboard gravestones, fog machines that are way too heavy on the smoke, and students dressed up as “ghosts” who can’t even scare a toddler. Yet, you find yourself smiling. It’s cheesy, but fun.

That is, until a fake skeleton rattles right behind you.

You jump, eyes widening.

Zayne notices, his voice low and teasing. “You’re scared.”

“I’m not,” you mutter, quickly straightening your back like you were just casually moving. “It’s just… I didn’t expect that.”

Zayne’s expression is unreadable, but you can feel his amusement. He doesn’t react to a single thing—the skeleton, a pop-up ghost, the rattling chains—all things that would typically make most people flinch. He just keeps walking, funnel cake still in hand, like nothing is happening.

Another prop shifts in the corner.

Your body freezes for a split second before forcing yourself to move again. You refuse to look at him, knowing full well he’s enjoying this.

Then, you realize—he’s walking closer.

He takes another slow bite, watching you. “…Why are you walking closer?” you mutter, half annoyed and half amused at your own reaction.

Zayne stops beside you, tilting his head slightly. “Do you want me to leave you behind?”

“You can try.” You narrow your eyes—even as your hand instinctively reaches for him.

He huffs a quiet laugh, squeezing your hand briefly before going back to his funnel cake. “Not scared, huh?”

You smack his arm lightly, snorting in defiance. “Shut up.”

He just hums, clearly entertained. “Yes, yes.”

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Somehow, only the two of you end up in the escape room challenge together.

“This is a teamwork game,” the student volunteer at the entrance says, clearly doubting your ability to work together.

You exchange a glance with Zayne.

“…We’ll be fine,” you assure them.

Five minutes later, you are not fine.

“Okay,” you huff, pacing the room, “there’s clearly a clue in this book.” You flip through it aggressively.

“There isn’t.” Zayne is already fiddling with a lock in the corner.

You ignore him. “It says something about a ‘hidden message’—”

“That’s a red herring.” He clicks the lock open.

You blink. “What—how did you—”

“You were overthinking.”

Your brain struggles to process how effortlessly he’s solving everything. “You didn’t even read the book!”

“I didn’t need to.”

You squint. “You’re annoying.”

“Mm.” He unlocks the last door. “And yet, you still lose to me every time.”

You glare at him. This isn’t over.

You’re not done yet.

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Your next challenge? The Spicy Inferno Eating Contest.

Zayne gives you a look as you approach the sign-up table. “This is a terrible idea.”

You wave him off. “You don’t understand.”

“What exactly don’t I understand?”

You tilt your head toward the first-place prize hanging behind the stall—a black hoodie with an embroidered anatomical heart on the sleeve.

It’s perfect. It screams Zayne.

“I’m winning that for you.”

Zayne stares at you. Then at the challenge rules, which basically translate to “this will ruin you.”

He exhales. “That’s not necessary.”

“Of course it is.” You flash him a grin. “You complain that I keep stealing your hoodies, so I’ll get one for you.”

Zayne presses his fingers against his temple.

Still, he doesn’t stop you.

Twenty Minutes Later.

You are suffering.

Your tongue? On fire.

Your stomach? A disaster zone.

Your dignity? Nonexistent.

You somehow managed to finish the final round, but at what cost?

Across from you, your opponent—a grizzled senior who’s clearly done this before—claps you on the back. “Not bad, kid. Thought you were gonna pass out halfway.”

You can’t even form words. You just nod weakly, chugging the milk they finally gave you.

Zayne, watching from the sidelines, unimpressed but assessing. Then, without a word, he moves.

When the announcer hands you the prize hoodie, you barely have the strength to lift it.

You stumble toward Zayne, shoving it into his arms. “Won it… for you.”

You expect a snarky remark.

Instead, Zayne catches you immediately, his hands steady, firm. His gaze sweeps over you—calculating, assessing.

“You can’t even stand properly,” he says, voice flat with disapproval.

“I’m fine,” you wheeze.

Zayne pointedly ignores you. Instead, he moves. One second, you’re attempting to stay upright—the next, you’re off your feet, hoisted effortlessly into his arms.

You yelp, clutching at his shoulders. “Hey—! I can walk!”

“You can’t.” His tone is final.

“Zayne, put me down.”

“No.”

“I’m not dying—”

“You might as well be.”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder. “This is so dramatic.”

“Says the person who just poisoned themselves over a hoodie.”

“…For you.”

Zayne exhales sharply, shaking his head. Then, softer. “…Idiot.”

Still, he holds you closer.

And despite everything—despite your stomachache, your suffering, your poor decisions—you can’t help but feel warm.

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Notes

I love them so much! and I'm so single help 🫶🏻😩 this Caleb experience and Rafayel experience👀

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: College AU list ✨

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