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celestie0 · 4 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere.

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him.

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.”

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already.

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it.

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead.

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?”

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says.

You glance at the time. 11:56am.

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.”

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.”

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest.

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.”

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings.

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you.

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them.

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed.

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately.

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible.

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before.

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks.

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks.

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.”

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase.

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby.

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you.

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you.

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded.

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you.

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.”

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself.

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long.

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.��

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing.

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before.

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.”

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door.

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously.

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm.

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?”

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?”

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest.

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands?

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious.

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him.

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how.

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it.

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters.

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly.

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.”

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been.

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly.

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too.

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you.

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.”

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly.

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck.

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area.

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.”

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?”

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says.

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.”

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.”

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him.

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back.

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear.

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake.

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though. by the way! i'm starting a choso x reader zombie au series, if you'd like to read more about it and/or be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post here also if you want to be added to taglist in general, i'd recommend making sure your tags are on!! since i've noticed a lot of people have them off

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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purple-babygirl · 2 months

Text

in the far corner of the forest I

Pairings: Orc!Bucky Barnes x f!human!reader Word Count: 3,867 Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though. Warnings: drugging, sort of kidnapping, crying, a lil dirty talk, nudity, unwanted intimate touching, forced/arranged marriage. 18+ content. A/N: I thought I'd start small and see what you guys think first before posting longer chapters. Please let me know your thoughts if you can and please enjoy xx💜💜

“Don’t be dead already, dammit.” She heard a low voice mutter as she regained her consciousness bit by bit.

Her body felt so weak, her mind so fuzzy. Her head felt heavy as she turned it to the side with a groan, slowly opening her eyes.

The room she was in looked warm and kind of homely. It was a large room that looked like it was both a living room and a bedroom, only illuminated by the light coming from the fireplace and a couple of storm lanterns hung around.

“Ah, finally awake! How ya feelin’?” The rough voice asked her, now sounding louder.

She’s never sat up faster than she did when she saw the strange man standing at the end of the large bed.

Her vision went black for a second and her head hurt, but she fought to open her eyes, deeming it unsafe to close them with a strange man around.

Wait, was he even a man? Shit! Was that a metal arm on him?! He appeared to be wearing dog tags.

Has she been kidnapped? Arrested? But what for? She didn’t step into forbidden territory, did she?

“Are you—?”

“A real orc? Yeah.” He smirked confidently.

“And your arm…” she started, sitting herself up straighter as she cradled her head.

He only chuckled, feeding more wood to the fire warming them up.

“Is—is that—”

His smirk widened, “a real metal arm?”

She nodded.

The orc nodded back mockingly and her head was back to spinning.

She was alone, in an unfamiliar place, with a massive snow orc, who had a metal left arm.

It seemed surreal. She felt high; like she was dreaming or making everything she was seeing up in her head. Her mind must be doing an Alice-in-Wonderland bit on her.

“I need to go,” she whispered, more to herself than the stranger, trying to get her feet on the ground but the soldier tutted at her and she froze.

“Not gon’ happen.” He walked closer, watching her cute, little face twist in confusion and fear.

“What?” she asked dumbly, her voice small and shaky.

“You’re not leaving.” He stood before her, huge arms crossed.

“Please, I- I didn’t mean to trespass. I swear. I barely even leave the orph—”

“What are you talking about?” He raised an eyebrow, his large hand getting closer to try and touch her forehead to see if the sleeping potion gave her a temperature.

She immediately flinched, dodging his touch as she started panicking inside. She took a couple of steps back as she tried to rearrange her thoughts, but she couldn’t.

“I— how did I get here?” she asked, her voice sounding way more scared than she had wanted.

“You’re my bride,” the orc informed her with another smile, tusks glinting, and if she wasn’t so terrified she might’ve thought that was a happy smile.

The previous events rushed back to her mind as she remembered her encounter with the orphanage manager just days ago. So the woman did end up giving her to the soldier as promised. She didn’t protect her from that terrible fate.

The woman who had raised her just so easily put her to sleep and let some savage stranger collect her as his trophy wife even after she'd begged her not to.

“Who did you think an orphan like you was gonna marry? A prince? This is not a fairytale kingdom! I’m doing you a favour.” She remembered the woman’s demeaning comment and how she mocked her in front of the rest of the girls.

“No, no.” She shook her head, tears pearling in her frightened eyes, “there must have been a mistake.”

“Oh, little human, quit whimpering. There’s been no mistake; you’re my mate.” His big thumb swiped across her chin. “I have you now and I’m never gonna let you go,” he told her with longing she didn’t understand.

His words made the dam collapse as she burst into tears, loud sobs tearing through her chest as she hunched over and cried.

This couldn’t be her fate. She knew she wasn’t the prettiest or the slimmest of girls out there, but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to end up as a reward for some metal-armed monster. She was a good girl, she’s always been good. She deserved better.

Why did it have to be her that they offered? Why did it have to be anyone? Everyone knew what he was and who he was and they still handed her over like she meant nothing.

“Shush now, enough crying. I don’t like the sight of puffy eyes. Come on, you’re ruining our wedding night,” the orc said, his expression bored as he started to take his heavy sweater off.

She wished she hadn’t looked up at him.

He was big. Huge. What wedding night was he talking about? Was he trying to destroy her? End her?

“What are you doing?” She trembled as the words left her.

He raised a suggestive eyebrow and she chocked on a sob.

“No, no, please.” She shook her head again, crying harder.

“Stop. Crying,” he warned, grinding his teeth and she stopped her wailing at once, swallowing the lump stuck in her throat.

“Much better. Now get yourself out of these clothes,” the orc demanded, his fingers hooking themselves under the hem of her oversized, handed down pullover.

“Please don’t do this.” Her heart was hammering in her chest, her eyes frantically searching for an exit.

“You have one minute to be standing bare in front of me or I’m gonna have you find out what I do to those who make me repeat myself,” he seethed, his eyes hard as they pinned her in place.

“I— I’ve never…” she muttered, her face growing hotter as she fiddled her fingers, “please, I can’t.”

“Oh, you’ve never been fucked, little human?” He teased her, his smile bordering on a smug smirk.

She winced at his vulgar language but nodded, “I’ve never been with a man, in any way.”

Tears were back to her cheeks again at her humiliating confession. She knew it was her last hope and if he didn’t have mercy on her because of that then nothing was going to stop what he was about to do to her.

“Never?” He asked again, circling around her just to see her tremble under his starved gaze.

“Never,” she whispered, feeling as uncomfortable as never before.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you all the tricks,” the orc chuckled, playing with her hair and she could all but sob again, "I'm only half orc after all".

Was that supposed to be comforting?!

It just made her sob harder.

“What did I say about crying?”

“Please let me go.” She begged, body shaking with her sobs.

“No.”

“W—Why not? I’ll give you all I have if you let me out of here. Anything you want. Please.” She cried and pled although she knew she had nothing to give him.

“I have all I want right here.” He leaned forward to smell her hair, his huge arm squeezing her side almost gently.

If she wasn’t so terrified of what was to come next she would’ve seen the way he was looking at her like she was the most precious thing he has ever seen in his miserable life. Like she was an actual trophy that only he was lucky enough to win.

“Please—”

“40 seconds, little human,” he warned, his face scary and showing nothing but impatience and anger.

There was no way out of this, was there? The door was too far and even if she managed to get out, he would easily catch her and who knows what he’d do to her then. At least he’s asking ‘nicely’ for now. Nice enough for a rough snow orc with a metal arm.

Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she grabbed her pullover and just stood there fiddling.

“Could— could you look the other way, please?” she pleaded, her eyes too ashamed to meet his.

The orc huffed before giving her his back and allowing her these few seconds of privacy.

He thought it was ridiculous though because he was going to turn around and see her anyway, but decided he’d try and be understanding just because it was her first night with him.

“You’re not wearing that many clothes,” he complained after a minute and she whimpered behind him.

He took it as his cue to turn around and when he did she was as naked as the day she was born, holding the large sweater to her chest, trying to cover up.

“Let me see you now, come on,” the orc cooed, licking his lips at the sight of what was exposed of her before slowly pulling the item of clothing out of her death grip.

She stood there shivering from both cold and fear, shyness gnawing at her insides as the brute’s eyes skimmed down every nude inch of her.

Hell, she was beautiful. Goddesses had nothing on his bride.

“Now why would you hide such beauty from me, hmm?” He bit his lip, taking her hand in his larger one, “come here.”

She choked on another whimper as he forced her closer to his body. She could feel the heat radiating off of his chest and it made her shiver more.

The orc’s rough palms massaged her arms before settling on her bare hips, holding her close to him.

“The name’s Bucky, just so you know what to scream,” he whispered in her ear, softly kissing the spot behind her earlobe.

He felt her tense in his hold and tried to ignore the way it made him feel.

“Please,” she tried one more time but swallowed the rest of her words when Bucky’s face showed irritation.

“I’m sure I can make you cry and beg just fine, little human. Stop wasting both outside of bed,” he told her, his voice firm and authoritative, making her wipe her tears away at once.

“Speaking of the bed, go lay down for me, will you, sweet thing?”

His soft tone scared her more than his harsh one and she didn’t know what was real. It still felt like a nightmare that she would wake up from any moment.

Every muscle in her body was taut, tense with anxiety. Her face burned with disgrace from being exposed like this for the first time in her life and not willingly either.

This wasn’t how her first time was supposed to be. She shouldn’t be forced into it, let alone with an enormous half orc who had no feelings for her and neither she for him.

She desperately wanted to cry it out, but squeezed her eyes shut before she could so Bucky wouldn’t scold her again.

He climbed on top of her, caging her legs between his as his muscly arms framed her head, supporting himself up.

It might’ve been her mind trying to calm her down, but she didn’t think she saw Bucky looking at her with lust. She was expecting to see nothing in his eyes but hunger, like a ravenous beast would look at a piece of meat, but instead she could see… admiration?

Bucky wanted to kiss her but thought against it and pressed his lips to her cheek instead, letting them travel down to her jaw so he could reach her neck.

“Please go easy on me,” she whispered her plea when she felt Bucky’s ‘thing’ poke around her naked thighs.

He was big. So big.

Even if she had had sex before this night, she knew no man could have been enough preparation for the size she was making him out to be.

Bucky didn’t reply, letting his lips kiss and suck on her neck and when he pressed them to her pulse point, he felt like shit about himself.

Her heart was beating like crazy, pounding so hard it must’ve hurt inside her chest.

She didn’t want it at all. She was clearly scared and if her heart was hammering like that he could only feel bad for making her do this.

Bucky pulled away to look at her, her eyes were shut tight, her body trembling still and her fists closed up by her sides as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing.

He let his hand touch her tummy and she quivered but didn’t try to move away. He kissed between her breasts and she whimpered in fear, quickly biting her lip after.

Bucky took a deep breath before gliding his hand up her leg, watching as she her teeth almost drew blood from her lower lip as she bit down hard to prevent herself from crying, panting through her nose.

When he reached her inner thighs she was digging her fingernails in her palms so hard she was sure she’d hurt herself.

Bucky tried to be gentle as he slowly slipped a thick finger up further to touch the cut of her.

She whimpered again but Bucky didn’t stop, dipping the tip of his finger in just a little bit to feel her. He could see her trying so hard not to close her legs as her thighs shook and she started nearly gasping, her eyes still tightly closed.

Bucky swiped his finger between her lips and she was dry as a desert.

She wasn’t wet for him at all. She wasn’t anything but petrified. Nothing about her told him that she wanted this.

Bucky took his hand away and sat back, letting out a sigh as he ran his big hand through his hair.

He didn’t care what the humans of the kingdom thought about him, he knew he wasn’t actually a monster. He thought he could do it even if she didn’t want it, but he couldn’t. He thought it was enough if he wanted and knew how to do it, but it wasn’t.

He knew he didn’t need love to make babies, nor did he need her agreement. But Bucky just couldn’t hurt her, not like that.

He could get her wet enough with his tongue, but he couldn’t find it in himself to force her into this, not on their first night and not in a million years.

He couldn’t set her up for a war she would lose with her own body when her heart and mind wanted nothing to do with him. He knew how big he was; he knew it would be torture for her if she didn’t want it.

Bucky hated that she looked so scared of him. He didn’t want to scare her further. Maybe at first he'd found it amusing, but for some reason that wasn’t the case anymore.

The way she was hiccupping and trembling under him was anything but a turn on.

He couldn’t go through with this.

“Get dressed,” Bucky said as he got up from the bed, pulling his own pants up his thick thighs, ignoring his hard cock.

“W-what?” She opened her eyes, her eyelashes wet with unshed tears as she stared at him blankly.

Was she imagining this?

“Now, before I change my mind.” He really didn’t like repeating himself.

“O-okay! Thank you.” She hated that he made her stutter so much.

Bucky gave her his back, putting his own sweater back on and she got up quickly, nearly stumbling off the bed as she reached for her underwear and slipped it on. Her pullover was next and when her head was through, she noticed Bucky standing by the door, watching her.

She went to grab her shoes but Bucky’s chuckle stopped her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, making her unsure again.

“Getting my shoes?”

“I can see you. Why?”

“So— uh.. so you could take me back?”

“Take you back where exactly?” He folded his arms again and she felt nervous as she swallowed, coming to learn that this was probably not a good sign.

“To the orphanage? I mean, you’re letting me go, right?” She sounded so hopeful, he hated it.

“No.” His definitive answer shattered her hopes.

“What? Why not?” She started to tear up again and Bucky found himself turning his eyes away from her distressed ones.

“You’re my wife, that’s why.”

“But it isn’t supposed to be me! Marry someone else!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face.

“But it’s you I have here. I don’t want anyone else. You’re my mate now.”

Mate? What was he talking about?! They didn’t know each other! And she wasn’t an animal!

“But you’re not mine!”

“I will never let you go and that’s the end of it.” Bucky’s growl shut her right up.

She stared at him in horror and maybe even contempt, but Bucky didn’t care.

“But you said get dressed,” she cried out her disappointment because she really thought he had had mercy on her and was letting her go, but it seemed like he only decided to postpone her torture instead.

“Don’t try to leave because I’ll find you anyway and if I don’t, well, you’d probably be eaten,” he told her, ignoring her comment before grabbing his axe and a lamp.

“Where are you going?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

She might hate him but that didn’t mean she wanted him to leave her alone in the middle of nowhere.

“Gonna go get some more wood to get us through the night. There’s food and water in the kitchen.” She nodded and he opened the door and stepped out.

“B-Bucky?” It was the first time she said his name since the night started and the orc had no idea his name could sound so sweet.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you anyway,” she said, her hushed tone grateful yet laced with sadness.

Bucky only nodded before shutting the door behind him, locking it from the outside.

Bucky found himself slamming his axe down on the wood more vigorously than usual. He had a lot inside of him and it had to be released. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she cried and bit back sobs at his touch.

What’s happened to him? Bucky loved nothing more than scaring these pretentious humans of the kingdom! He found incomparable joy in the way they would cower down before his intense gaze whenever he would growl or flex his left arm. He had no problem talking them down, taunting them or even threatening them. So why on earth was it so difficult for him to continue to be like that to her?!

Why did he care so much all of sudden?! Why was it so hard for him to continue to be hard on her?! She seemed like someone who would follow orders just fine. Why didn’t he give her some?

Bucky picked her because she caught his eye. Because he deserved her. He deserved a bride and a family after all that he’d lost while fighting the kingdom’s people’s fights for them. It was the least they could gift him in return. A woman, a new life.

Another growl left Bucky’s chest as he slammed his axe down again.

He couldn’t go back to the cottage with a hard cock. He only had so much control. He needed to get it all out now.

This was going to be hard.

She continued to cry after Bucky was gone. She wasn’t really thankful he didn’t rape her when he could have, she just didn’t want to fall under his wrath had she tried to argue further.

She was always so scared, of everyone and everything. Always bending to the storm and never fighting back. And look where that had gotten her…. A cast out orc’s wife.

Was that really how her fate was drawn? Was that what was meant for her after so many lonely years in the orphanage?

Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of the key turning followed by the cottage’s door being kicked.

She swallowed the rest of her whimpers as she watched Bucky’s arms enter first, a bunch of cut wood in them.

He was so strong. She was sure he could crush her skull with his bare hands if he wanted to. The thought alone sent yet another shiver down her spine.

Bucky kicked the door closed before walking to the fireplace and setting the wood pieces beside it. He put some inside to keep the fire alive before getting up and looking at her with a look she couldn’t pin down.

“Have you been sitting here the whole time?” Bucky asked her upon noticing how she was curled up on the floor next to the bed, her face streaked with dried tears and her nose and lips swollen.

“Y-yes.” Her voice was hoarse from the constant sobbing.

“You didn’t eat anything?”

She shook her head and Bucky sighed loudly.

He walked to the kitchen and she could hear a fridge being opened. Then a match was lit and something metal sat down on the stove.

A few minutes later Bucky was coming out of his kitchen with a large glass of warm milk. He looked at her as he put the glass on the table.

“I put honey in there to help soothe your throat.”

“I- I don’t want to. Thank y—”

“Come here and drink your milk.” One glare and she was scrambling to the only seat on the table before the steaming glass.

“Don’t leave one single drop in there,” he told her before walking to the wooden closet in the corner.

Bucky got himself something clean and comfy to wear as well as a towel.

“I’m gonna go clean up,” he informed her in case she needed to go to the bathroom but she only nodded so he went on his way.

She watched the door to the bathroom shut and let out the breath she was holding before standing up.

Walking around the room, she found a stack of papers on the smaller table by the window. One was their marriage certificate that she hasn’t even gotten the choice whether or not to sign. She thought about throwing it in the fire, but it would likely cause her more problems than she would want to handle at the moment. Under it was what looked like a contract that they made this orc sign. Her chest tightened and tears pricked her eyes again.

It wasn’t enough that they gave her to a stranger, but they’d handed her out to an exiled orc, signing contracts to close their deal of selling her. What had she done to anyone to ever deserve this?

The room was suddenly too quiet when she looked around again. The milk before her looked tempting and she was hungry, but the door looked better and she was entrapped.

She slowly walked closer as she could hear water running inside the bathroom and when she twisted the handle, the door opened. Just like that. Bucky had forgotten to lock it and now was her chance.

The thunder cracked outside once more as if in warning, but she didn’t pay it any mind. It was now or never.

Part II

Tag List:

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @sapphirebarnes @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie

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lordprettyflackotara · 1 month

Text

till dawn || eyeless jack || the finale

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. this one’s a lil fluffy not gonna hold you guys. i’m so sad to see till dawn end :’) but all good things must come to an end eventually. i think down the line i will create a bonus chapter, but for now this is the end of till dawn. love you all. mwah!

bonus part is here

Knock knock knock!

A groan of annoyance left your lips, your senses resuming as you regained consciousness.

“Wake up fuckers! You owe us waffles!” Ben’s cheery voice flooded your ears, his voice echoing down the hallway outside of Jacks room. You sighed, rolling over and shoving Jack awake. A confused snore escaped his lips, his eye sockets finally opening.

“Huh?”

“Ben wants waffles,” You sighed, flopping back down onto your pillow. Unfortunately you both had lost one too many rounds of mario kart, resorting in a wager of cooking breakfast to end in Ben’s favor. Jack groaned. “Okay Ben give us five minutes!” He called. You rubbed your eyes, looking over at the window. The sun had just reached above the trees, the sunlight beams streaming across the room. A triumphant Ben continued down the hallway, whistling proudly.

“Holy fuck, what time is it?”

Jack chuckled, sitting up against the headboard.

“I told you we’d only have till dawn before someone showed up at our doorstep about breakfast.”

He was right, but converting to rising at the early hours and staying up late was exhausting. You rolled over lazily, your back turned to him. “Have none of them ever heard of sleep schedules?” You grumbled. Jack couldn’t help but chuckle, your settlement into the mansion one that occurred with ease. Your charming personality and ability to cook won everyone over, even the proxies.

“We live in Slender’s mansion babe, we’re lucky the sun even rises here,” Jack replied, pressing a soft kiss against the back of your head. Slenderman’s reaction was a completely different story, the explanation of your existence the longest tale Jack had ever had to explain. Letting humans know about creeps existence was grounds for exile. It was forbidden to make spectacles out of themselves, even if the long term plan was for you to become a creep. (Which, it was not even an option to Jack.)

Becoming one, losing that grasp on sanity or facing an unfortunate fate of torture and death could never be planned though. Unless of course you were Jeff, then you knew how to create an arch nemesis. Jack would never want that for you, which he explained to Slender. Out of all of the mansions residents and outsiders, there was not another creature like Jack. A creature that went into an animalistic heat and needed to mate. Slender knew this and that led to his approval.

Another factor that Slender considered was that Jack was the oldest and wisest. If he was to entrust anyone to bring a human into the house, it was him.

Jack curled up beside you, your back pressing against his chest. “Sleepy this morning are we?” Jack asked teasingly, peppering kisses on your neck and shoulder. You chuckled, moving yourself closer to him. “I would’ve gotten better sleep if someone hadn’t kept me up all night,” You replied. A mischievous smile spread across Jacks lips, his hand slithering down to your hips.

“If it makes you feel any better i’m sure Clockwork didn’t get much sleep either,” Jack said, his lips refusing to stray far from your skin. His hand slithered further up your skin, slipping under your nightgown. You bit your bottom lip, Jacks fingertips lightly tracing your skin. “Thats gonna make a terrible first impression,” You sighed. Clockwork didn’t frequent at the mansion, leading to you never officially meeting her. Having her room be next door and hearing you beg for more? Not exactly the best first impression.

“There have been worse my love. When Jeff first came here Slender tried to make him a proxy. He tried to burn the mansion down,” Jack said, cupping your heart. Your thin panties blocked him from complete access to your cunt. Your breath was becoming shaky, your thighs opening more for him. He inhaled deeply, the smell of your arousal hitting his nostrils. “You just can’t get enough can you?” Jack teased. You groaned softly as he rubbed more harshly against the fabric.

“Of you? Never,” You replied, satisfied to feel Jack push your panties to the side. His lips attached themselves to your neck, his boner poking you from behind. You could feel him suck at your skin harshly, purposefully littering your neck with as many marks as possible. “I’m going to keep looking like a wounded puppy if my neck stays forever purple,” You chuckled, gasping as his fingers rubbed up and down your wet slick. You bit your bottom lip, two of his digits dipping into your cunt.

“My wounded puppy,” Jack snickered. He curled his fingers inside of you, your hand finding its way to his aching cock. He gasped as you palmed at the fabric of his basketball shorts, slipping your hand underneath the waistband. “Not sure if we’re doing to have time for this love,” Jack admitted, even if he didn’t want it to be true. You moaned in response, pumping his shaft as he finger fucked you. “It can be quick,” You offered. You bit the inside of your cheek, refraining from moaning louder.

“Please,” You whimpered, sealing your fate. Jack grinned, the two of you eagerly switching positions. Jacks back hit the soft mattress, licking his lips as you straddled him. Your panties had been discarded, his shorts and boxers pooling at his ankles. Jack was never one to not be in control of sex, even with you riding him. Sometimes he’d let you pretend you were in control, if he was feeling nice enough. But each time you got a bit out of line, Jack was quick to put you in your place. However, he couldn’t deny how ethereal you looked riding him.

You lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you exhaling in relief as he bottomed out inside of you. The shape of his cock bugled from your stomach as it always did, a subtle, very hot reminder that he was much bigger than you. Jacks hands found your hips, leaning forward to kiss you as he guided you. You groaned into his mouth as you rode his cock, his tip hitting your g spot. Playfully you grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed. Jack admired your breast bouncing as you chased your high, riding him like a wild animal.

Your body over time came to crave Jacks almost identically to the way he craved yours. (He couldn’t help but wonder if scientifically his cum had altered your hormones.) You smiled lovingly as you looked down at Jack, his facial expression one of contentment. The sun had risen higher, hitting his face at a flattering angle. It highlighted his sharp jawline and round nose. “What’s so funny?” Jack asked. You shook your head, continuing to hold your sinful noises in the best you could as you rode his cock. “You just look so handsome like this,” You complimented.

Jack blinked, “What, under you?”

You giggled, playfully slapping his shoulder. “No EJ, with the sun shining on your skin,” You replied, rolling your eyes. Jack leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your back. He completely and utterly adored you, your flattery and complimentary of him meaning the world. “You look even better, so beautiful taking my cock like this,” He huffed, snapping his hips upwards. You whined as he began to move faster, taking control. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, biting down on his skin to control your noises.

“Thats it, bite me as hard as you want love. Mark me,” Jack panted, his cock abusing your cervix. He was tempted to say hell to breakfast, flipping you over and fucking you senseless like the animal inside of him craved. But he knew you cared about his roommates opinion of you, even if to Jack he wouldn’t consider them friends five out of seven days of the week. Your teeth sank into Jacks shoulder, a subtle growl escaping his throat.

Something about seeing you so primal, but so desperate to keep quiet made him pound into you harder. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, a trail of saliva dripping down Jacks shoulder as your teeth clenched around his skin. You whimpered, your hands tangling themselves in his hair as you came on his cock. Your walls spasmed around his shaft, a deep grunt escaping his lips as he came inside of you.

You released his shoulder, grimacing down at the bite mark. “Holy fuck, I don’t know where that came from,” You panted. Neither of you had moved, Jacks gaze moving to your breast. “Neither do I, but it was pretty fucking hot,” He admitted, kissing your breast.

‘Waffles! Waffles! Waffles!’

The sound of Toby and Ben chanting from downstairs made you chuckle. Jack could hear them slamming their silverware down on the kitchen table, the sound making his ears twitch. You slowly slid off of you, whimpering as your walls squeezed the air. His cum slowly dripped down your cunt, the sight the most satisfying sight to Jack in the world. He laid back on the bed, propping himself up with his hands behind his head.

He admired you as you brushed your hair, throwing on clothes. You were so focused, Jacks staring going over your head. It wasn’t until you were ready, turning around to find Jack undressed and unbothered. “What are you doing? Ben’s gonna come through our radio any minute now if you don’t get dressed,” You say. Jack rose to his feet, bringing your back against his chest. He towered over you easily, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“How did I ever get so lucky?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your head. You giggled, examining your stomach. “Do you think you’ll ever get me pregnant one of these days?” You asked curiously. Jacks eyebrows furrowed, his large hands resting on top of yours. “You do know that’s scientifically impossible right?” He asked. Yeah, maybe his cum was seeping into your hormones. Or maybe your brain.

“Yeah it’s still a nice thought though,” You shrug. Turning around you wrapped your arms around his neck, admiring him from below. Your eyes were dancing with curiosity. Tilting your head to the side a simple question left your tongue, “If I somehow did, you’d want to keep it right?”

Millions of thoughts soared through Jacks mind, ones mixed with the joy of parenthood and ones of terror. Would the fetus become a demon just like him? Or would it be as beautiful as you? What would it eat? Would raising a child in a mansion full of monsters from its worst nightmares be sustainable? But as he looked down at your puppy dog eyes, your orbs flickering back and forth as you awaited an answer.

Creeps had never procreated before, successfully anyways. It would be a first for all of them, especially Jack. He wanted to believe there was a piece of him that wasn’t an organ eating monster. One that could raise and love a child that was a mixture with the person he loved the most. He was almost sure he would’ve gotten you pregnant by now, with the amount of times he’d locked you into the mating press alone.

Truth was Jack would give you whatever you wanted, even if it was most likely scientifically impossible. “I want whatever you want my love,” He purred, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

Bang bang bang!

“EJ learn how to keep it in your pants and pour some batter in the waffle maker instead!” Ben called.

You giggled, Jack sighing as he pulled on his pants.

“And in the mean time we have Ben.”

“We most certainly do and that’s enough for me.”

#eyeless jack x y/n #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack smut #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x eyeless jack #eyeless jack x jeff the killer #eyeless jack #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta #jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer smut #jeff the killer

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plussizefantasia · 25 days

Text

Don't Call Me Kitty

Bucky Barnes x Black Cat! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Chapter 1/6

Next>

Warnings: Reader is plus size and it's talked about being somewhat of a negative thing (its not) , language, I think that's it

AN: This is part one of the BlackCat!Reader x Bucky work that I've been working on for a while. It was a request although I can't seem to find the original request anymore. This is part one of six, all fully written but I decided to split it up because this is by far the longest thing I've ever written and I wanted to publish it in chunks. Let me know if you like it, or if the rest of this should just stay hidden in my drafts for all of eternity.

If you had to spend one more fucking minute in the same car as James Buchanan Barnes, one of you would be dying. And you are pretty fucking confident that it won't be you.

He won't get off your back. Every chance he has it seems like he launches himself at the opportunity to remind everyone that you weren’t always the goody two shoes he thinks you are pretending to be. But God forbid you call him out on the obvious hypocrisy he's spewing because then you’d have to face Rogers and the inevitable tirade he’d go off on about how his best friend was never a bad man, just deeply broken and how the actions he’d taken while under Hydra’s control were not his own.

You don’t take issue with Barnes bringing up your past, it's not a secret. Everyone on the team had at one point been the focus of your ire on one of your bad days and that more often than not led to some sort of discussion where you would disclose more and more about the things you were trying to forget. Your issue with Barnes was that he was trying to insinuate you were one of the good guys. And you’d rather die than admit you were an Avenger.

You are not, nor will you ever be a good guy. You aren’t necessarily a bad guy, but you are not a goody two shoes. Barnes knows that, he also knows that it pisses you off to no end when he tries to tell everyone that you're acting like one.

“Shoulda seen the way she was sucking up to Fury Stevie, she’s trying to be teacher’s pet I’m tellin’ ya.” You were not sucking up to Fury you were stealing his wallet and trying to distract him so he wouldn’t notice the fifty bucks you lifted, but Barnes didn’t need to know that.

The worst thing about this hate that you have for James Barnes was the fact that you know deep down you don’t hate him at all. Sure, he pushes your buttons and knows just what to say to get you to want to knock his pretty little teeth out. But he's also a genuinely good guy and most of the time isn't all that bad to be around. But god it's so much easier to hate him than it is to sift through all those feelings.

There was also the fact that the two of you work well together. You can be bickering one second and covering each other’s sixes flawlessly the next. You have a theory on that though, you think that because both of you had been forced to work with people you didn’t trust very much at one point or another you got used to getting the job done no matter what other feelings were floating around in the background. That's what you try to convince yourself is the case. The idea that you and Barnes simply make a good team is nauseating.

Barnes isn’t only good to have in the field though, he has proved his worth off the battlefield when he knocked around some poor recruit who had been running his mouth about you in the training gym. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty and honesty you weren’t going to hold his ignorance against him. If he underestimated you because of your size, then that was on him and in a way, was only gonna help you in the long run.

That was something that you had noticed early on, that most people couldn’t fathom that someone who wasn't a size four could be as good at your job as you are. “Most People” also included people on your team, it had taken you saving Tony’s life in the field more than once for him to admit that he was wrong about you. You are still trying to convince Thor that just because you look soft does not mean you can’t still kick his ass.

You have made people’s lack of faith in you into a good thing. Rich guys aren’t worried about their wallets or watches when a meek little thing bumps into them on the subway and who would suspect the overweight chick to be the one who scales the sides of buildings to get her hands on some unreleased tech from Hammer’s R&D department? Bucky Barnes.

Bucky has never regarded you with the same kind of hesitance as the others. He has never once made it seem like he thought you couldn’t get the job done because you were bigger. And you had to admit, it's refreshing. Not that you need his approval but it's still nice to not be looked at with some kind of doubt, or incredulity. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t piss you off though.

“I swear to God Barnes, if you change the radio station one more time I’m gonna cover your whole arm in fucking extra strength magnets while you're asleep.” An interesting threat sure, but one you will one hundred percent follow through on.

“The station keeps changing to static, kitty, you want to listen to static for the next three hours?” He asks. He's right, you are both on your way to some ball in Alabama and according to Tony, all the Quinjets are in use for this weekend (bullshit), which leaves you and Bucky to get there the old fashion way, a road trip.

You're already eight hours in and are currently driving through the small towns and mountains that cover a good section of the south. Which means that the radio is cutting in and out. And yeah he's right, you don’t want to listen to static but you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I’d prefer the goddamn static over the song changing every five fucking seconds.”

“Well, it’s either that or silence, kitty.”

“First of all Barnes, I’ve told you not to call me kitty. It’s demeaning. Secondly, maybe some silence will do you good, you might be able to hear yourself think for once. If you’re capable of thinking.” You shoot back at him.

“Oh, kitty I have plenty of thoughts I’m pretty sure I think enough for the two of us.” He looks at you without turning his head away from the road, giving you a sidelong glance.

“Oh yeah, about what? How to get more beefy? Whatever the next idiotic insult you’ll hurl at our resident birdbrain will be? Whether or not you'll get wrinkles from the perpetual furrow in your brow?”

“I don’t think you want to know what goes on in my head, Mittens.” He pulls his bottom lip up in between his teeth to stop the smirk that is spreading across his face.

“You did not just call me fucking Mittens” Your jaw is practically on the floor. The audacity of this man.

“You said I couldn’t call you kitty. What are my other options?”

“Maybe my name? Asshole.” You also have to fight back a smile. Teasing Barnes is nice, it was the closest thing you have to a genuine relationship. Too bad you can’t stand him.

“You memorized your cover?” He asks you. You almost scoffed at him, you're not a goddamn amateur.

“Of, course. I’m Debrah Longborne, Georgian peach and heiress to my Daddy’s large fruit processing fortune.” This mission is a simple one. You're here to take down a corrupt governor and what better place to do than at the gala he and his wife organize every year? You had Tony donate to his wife’s foundation under your cover name. Large enough to draw attention but not too much attention that you can’t get your job done. “And you…?”

“Brantley Moore, Law professor at Vanderbilt, and your arm candy for the night.” You like going undercover, and this assignment is a short one, just one weekend. It's almost like being another person, just with all your skills and an ulterior motive.

“Who the hell picked the name Brantley?” You ask.

“I know right, I sound like some preppy douchebag”

“Not too far off then.”

“Fuck off.” He laughs. You like his laugh. His eyes crinkle in the corners when he does it, a brief glimpse into the years he has lived through, not all sunshine and rainbows, but enough joy to have laugh lines.

“So Debrah and Brantley met where?”

“Vanderbilt has society mixers every winter, where the professors and some select students get the chance to network with some donors and other important people. It’s a believable story plus there’s over a thousand attendees at these things which makes it easy to slip our names onto the list.”

“And whose idea was that?” you lift an eyebrow. “Mine.”

“How do you know about the Vanderbilt mixers?”

“I had a life before I met you, didn’t you know that.”

“I knew you had a life I guess I just didn’t assume it involved rubbing elbows with southern socialites at prestigious university parties.”

“I wasn’t rubbing elbows, it was for a deal made by Peirce with the university president, I was there as a bodyguard for Pierce and to cover our tracks when things inevitably got bloody.” Any hint of teasing falls from Bucky’s voice. He says shit like that sometimes. Shit that you think he says to scare you or to remind you how dangerous he was. All it does is make you sad. Nobody deserves to go through what he had, and you hate that those evil bastards had taken a great man and mangled him.

The conversation peters out after his revelation. The two of you ride in silence for the next two hours. Thirty minutes in, you get closer to the city and the radio sputters back to life. Bucky reaches to turn it off.

When you finally reach the hotel both of you are a bit on edge. You’ve been driving all day, switching back and forth every few hours but Bucky’s silence for the last little stretch seems to have affected both of you more than you’d thought.

Still, you have a job to do and you’ll be damned if you let the metal-armed nuisance ruin your reputation for perfect follow-throughs. You grab your small weekender bag out of the backseat and make your way to the front desk. You school your features and dust off the southern belle persona that has been stashed away in your metaphorical conman toolbelt.

You can feel Bucky trailing behind you, and an idea pops into your head. Swiftly turning on your heel you pass your bag into his unoccupied hand. Not giving him a chance to say no you rotate back around and march forward at a pace fitting to a very busy society woman.

Bucky sputters behind you and you toss over your shoulder, “If I’m playing an heiress this weekend, I'm not lifting a goddamn finger if I don’t have to.”

Marching the rest of the way to the desk you flash the young woman behind the counter a polite smile, “Room for Longborne”. She immediately matches your smile and begins typing away on her keyboard pulling up the reservation that was made for your cover.

“Of Course Ms. Longborne, I have you down for the Iris sweet for three nights is that correct?”

“Sounds correct to me, although if you could hold the room for one more day that would be just peachy of you, we don’t know how long our business here is going to take and it’s better to be safe than sorry. You understand of course.” You put every ounce of Southern charm into your words and pray to God that this interaction can be over sooner rather than later.

“Of course Ms., Here are your keys. Your room is on our twelfth floor and the number is embossed on the front of the card.” She hands you a package of three cards across the desk. “If you need anything at all don’t hesitate to call.”

You nod, taking the key cards from her hand, and motion for Bucky to follow you to the elevator.

The ride up to the twelfth floor is silent, much like the last stretch of the car ride. What you aren’t expecting is Bucky’s exclamation when he walks into the room before you.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The first words Barnes has uttered in nearly two hours. “There's only one fucking bed.”

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onakomiyaki · 1 month

Text

just a silly crush (not) pt.2

pairing : daniel ricciardo x childhood friend-brabham!reader

summary : your wall is starting to crumbling down, thanks to daniel. and the ice exterior you've been putting on for years started to melt, thanks to the daniel, the sunshine himself.

warning: unedited and rushed work, harsh words, slowburn.

a/n : we start to explore what's going on with y/n brabham. and honestly this is one of my favorite chapter to write so far!

most of juniors that tried to befriended you have one same goals; to get you to help them to get close to some of your friends-your driver friends of course. or maybe that's just how you've been treated your whole life when you grow up, so you just assume that they want you for something–link to the drivers in this case.

if there is something you know best about f1 is that it is a hot topic amongst your juniors in modelling world and oh how they wish to be one of the wags of the f1 drivers.

many have tried, from buying you some expensive gift, trying to go on a lunch date with you, or just be your matchmaker–which let's be honest, sound kind of dumb when you surrounded by some of good looking-breath-taking drivers, not only in f1 but on some other motorsports as well–and the list is still counting.

and you, by natural, got a lot of heat from it. but you're fine. by the end of the day you're still the one who spend some holidays with those drivers, not them.

but not even once succeeded to even own your private phone number.

"(y/n) you really need to be nice to your colleagues, the media is onto you again." anna, your manager, watch your reflection with annoyed expression.

"what is it now?" you simply ask, eyes closing as you massage your temple.

"you were voted as the most cold-hearted models to work with." she exclaim, walking towards your direction with ipad in her hand.

you just stare at the pad with unamused expression. you read the headline with a frown on your face, then let out a scoff.

"(Y/N) BRABHAM, THE EVERCHANGING ICE PRINCESS,"

"COLD AS THE ARTICS, HERE ARE (Y/N) BRABHAM'S ICONIC RESTING B**** FACE!"

"i honestly adore (y/n) so much, she's an icon. but it is-it is hard to get close to her. to make friend with her outside the work talk. almost like she build this wall around us."

"i remember she's constantly sat alone in the dressing room-sometimes she just sat there with her headphone on. and when she's alone no one dare to talk to her-she's just that intimidating!"

and there's more articles and some interview snippets from your junior about how unapproachable you are.

"ice princess? what am i, elsa from frozen?" you said, scrolling away.

"i told you to be nice to those young models, (y/n)." anna said, snatching the ipad from your hand.

you finally turn your body, looking up at your manager. "they only want me because they want to get to know my friends." you stated.

"well maybe they want to be your friends? can't you just humor them for once? it won't kill you to gave them some of your friends' numbers..." she asked, sitting down on the sofa, just across you.

"anna, im not trying to gatekeep those men. they are welcome to get to know lewis, lando, carlos, charles, max, esteban, pierre-"

"and daniel."

"-nope. not daniel, not a chance." you finally turn your body, pointing at anna with frown on your face.

"why not? you know him the longest i'm sure you'll find a model that will fit him as a girlfriend." she asked, throwing a little smirk at you.

"that's the problem, i've known him almost all my life! what if i introduce him to a wrong person then shit went downhill? what if they only want his money? i can't risk that anna." you said, voice gone an octave higher.

"(y/n) you know that's not true. that's just you being scared of nothing-"

"anna you don't understand! he is the one constant in my life that i can count on–he keep me grounded okay? i am me with him and the thought of losing him-"

"(y/n)-"

"‐point is im not gonna risk my friendship like that. especially with daniel. if they want to get to know those drivers, just attend the race, get a paddock pass or something. im sure if those drivers truly interested they will come." you finally stated, voice stern as you turn your back on your manager like a kid throwing small tantrum.

anna shakes her head in disbelief as she walk away from you, taking the ipad with her. "you're such a child sometimes."

"oh but you love me enough to stay with me for 10 years." you bite back.

"and i am amazed at myself for doing that. okay back to the topic, can just think about befriending your junior, please? that's all i ask from you, and you know i never asked anything from you." anna said as she walk out from your room, closing the door behind her.

you just sat there, pouting as you return your attention to your original task, watching the replay of british gp on your laptop.

it has been almost 2 months since your party and your meeting with daniel. and its also been 2 months since you call him. yes, texts were exchanged, but of course you miss his voice as well.

between your tight schedule and his race, you never find a time to call him. well you can but choose not to. you don't want to distract him.

as you saw the checkered flag being waved you take your phone, wanting to send daniel a congratulations text for his p5.

p5 bigman. congrats! podium next maybe? i miss watching your shoey thingy.

you stop, hovering at the send button. you want to call him. should you call him? you should probably call him instead. its his highest position of this season afterall.

but what if he's busy? he should be loaded with interviews by now right? ah there's also briefing right? you shouldn't call him. but, it won't hurt trying to call him. worst thing that can happen is the call never got answered anyway.

so you just sat there, phone in your hand as you chew the inside of your cheek, tasting a bit of iron when you accidentally bit too hard.

10 minutes have passed, and you're still staring at your phone. pretty sure by now daniel would've changed his outfit, already out of his race suit and maybe already headed back to his motorhome.

before you chickened out, you press the call button. the call is connected and you shriek, pushing the phone away as if the phone burn you.

"please don't answer, please don't answer! please-"

"hello?"

"p5 mate, that's a good one." one of the engineers welcome him with a clap on his shoulder, but voice is not as excited as it should be.

"yeah, thanks. i can do better, i will do better next time." daniel said, voice a bit trembling from the adrenaline that still coursing through his body.

he pull the baclava off or his head, sweats dripping from his brown curls. his freckled face flushed, chest heave heavily as he wait for his water. if you look close enough, you can see steam seeping out from his racing suit.

he tear the velcro of his race suit, pulling the zipper down. "daniel! points for both of us!" lando, race suit sat snuggly on his hips, greeting the older man with a beaming smile.

"and you did amazing out there. keep up with the goodwork." daniel said, ruffling the younger's hair, smiling proudly at the young brit.

although daniel got points for mclaren, he knew that all eyes are on him. expecting something more from the ferocious honey badger, a win maybe. and truth be told he also expected more from himself.

the fact that p5 is his current highest position in this season really speak something. of course its not a bad thing, but he can't help it. he knew mclaren put a lot of faith on the 7 times champions to take home the first trophy for mclaren.

he silently walk back to his driver room, helmet sat snuggly on his waist beneath his arm. michael, his trainer, follow him while he ramble about their next training session.

but of course the only voices he heard right now is just some static buzz and noises. he is dissosiating, moving autopilot towards the sofa and plop down. his body instantely melts as he stare blankly at the ceiling.

"- and (y/n) will be there and all." michael said.

at the mention of your name, daniel's ears perk up and he only gave the other man a puzzled looks.

"sorry, you were saying?" he said.

"daniel this is getting ridiculous. i've spent 5 minutes explaining how we can improve your training and you just listen to me after i mention (y/n). just call her for godsake." michael said as he put some notes for daniel down on the table, throwing an acussing stare at him. daniel flustered under his gaze.

"sorry i was just– its not that! i–"

"i get it buddy, you're hopelessly in love with (y/n)" michael said, patting the aussie on the shoulder as he walk out from his room. "you really should call her man, stop playing the tough guy card, you're not fooling yourself or anyone."

daniel sigh in defeat, unable to come out with a comeback. to think that everyone but her knew about that–his feeling–is just sad at this point. michael was right, he is hopelessly, pathetically, desperately in love with you. for years now.

he knew he loved you eversince he saw your freckled face blushed under the australian heat, helmet in your hand 20 years ago as you listen to your father explaining how you can improve your turns and how you should control your kart well.

he loved you eversince you introduce yourself, voice cocky and proud after winning the carting session. "(y/n) brabham, and i will be an f1 driver." he remember what you said as you walk towards him and he was stunned, just silently watching as you walk away from him, your ponytail swaying left and right.

he loved you eversince you give him a can of cold soda, putting the can on his cheek. he jumped, flinching at the sudden cold sensation on his cheek. and that was the first time he heard your–oh so cute–cackles.

he loved you eversince he found you hiding away out of the karting field, sitting alone on the grass. he saw how your back was trembling, so he sat down with you. "i will never be a driver. i will never be enough." you said, wiping your tears as you lean into his left shoulder. and daniel listen to the voice of your soft sobs, letting his race suit wet from the tears.

he loved you. still love you. and will always love you. desperately so that it hurts him whenever you call him your bestbuddy ever or whenever he listen how you cry after unlucky relationship with some random man or when he went out on a date with some random girls, trying his best to burrow his feeling deep, which of course doesn't work.

just let me be your man, dammit.

so, daniel let out a deep shuddered breath as he sat down. his eyes landed on his phone that laying on the table, next to the report papers michael left for him.

should he call you?

he shakes his head, raising from his seat to walk towards his fridge. he took one of the bottled juice michael had prepared for him. he took the lid off as he empty the bottle in no time.

after throwing away the empty bottle, he shurg off his race suit, tossing it to the nearest chair.

he was halfway from taking his heat suit off of his body when his phone rang. its so embarassing how his head whipped quickly to his phone and how he struggle to just shrug his heat protector away.

"oh shit-"

he crashed, fall to the floor before quickly running for his phone. he accept the call, let out a wheezed air as he press the green button.

"hello?" he calmly said as he rub his elbow.

"hi danny, you busy?"

"no-no not at all. i was just chilling in my motor home. i have interview in 5 though. do you need something?" daniel finally sat down, this time on the floor.

he wait for your response as lay down, face facing the ceiling.

"oh. no, not at all. i just want to congratulate you on p5."

"you watch the race?"

"i always watch your race, maybe not in person, but i never missed your race."

and now daniel turn into 17 years old girl who got called by his crush, giggling and twirling his hairs. "really?" his voice squeak pathetically, so he clear his throat.

"yes, of course! i will always support my best buddy no matter what, even if it from afar."

oh.

yeah, bestfriend.

ouch.

"aww, geez. thanks, brabham. i knew you're in love with me."

"hah! you wish, ricciardo! anyway-"

"yeah?"

"you're doing great sweetheart. do not forget who you are and what you capable of. keep your chin up, bigman."

daniel smile slowly creeping back on his face. he can feel how flushed his face right now.

"thank you, (y/n)."

"you are most welcome, honeybadger. bite 'em okay?"

he turn his body so that he's laying on his side. he used his left arm as a pillow.

"can i bite you instead?"

silence. daniel held his breath, biting his bottom lips as he wait for your answer. and when he about to apologize, daniel heard you clearing your throat.

"alright pump the brake romeo. anyways, i will leave you be now. i'm gonna catch some sleep here. talk to you later, ricciardo."

"alrighty, cheers, brabham."

and the call end just like that. and daniel feel silly. he pull his phone closer to his face, gently hitting his forehead with it.

"you stupid boy..." he said to himself.

but he can't help it, he wished that you're here with him. god how he want to hug you right now. even better, kiss you right now.

"oi, danny! we need to go now!" one of the pr team shouted as he knocked the door.

"yeah! coming! just gimme a sec!"

meanwhile, you on the other side, had to stop and do a manual breathing after the call. you're slapping your face with both your hands as you watch your reflection on the mirror.

"bro pull yourself together! he is your bestfriend!"

"can i bite you instead?"

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

you let out a scream as you recall what he said to you. his deep voice haunted you–making you both dizzy and anxious (in a good way). no, definitely not. you can't! panicking, you get up from your seat as you pacing around the room.

"that bastard."

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#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #dr3 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #Spotify

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yawneneteyam · 10 months

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ALL THINGS CONNECTED | j. flatters chapter four — a minute sixteen

summary: growing up on the set of avatar: the way of water was a dream. your friends had become your family, all except for one. jamie was the one person you always found yourself drawn to, in ways more complex than the title of 'best friends' [3.1k].

pairing: fem!reader x jamie flatters

notes: based on jamie flatters documentary: all things connected. co-stars/friends to lovers. inspired by @cacapeepee. chapter contains swearing, mentions of next chapter being the kissing scene (I know, dont lose your head)

masterlist ⎸ chapter three | chapter five

2017.

"SO YOU'RE ENJOYING your time on set then?" you were sat on the floor in jamie's hotel room, legs crossed, hands in your lap. this was the longest interview that jamie had filmed so far. he saw his camera battery flashing red, but was adamant to keep hearing you speak.

"loving it," you admitted, a small smile picked up by the camera. it beeped, signalling that it had a few more minutes of battery life left in it before it would shut down. "what was that?" you asked, a chuckle following in suit.

"the battery is gonna die," you noticed how jamie didn't switch it off, rather keeping you in frame.

“should i stop talking?” you asked.

“don’t," jamie looked upwards to you, through his eyelashes, "your voice is very soothing." you felt your chest tighten and your face heat up.

"your camera is gonna die, jamie" you whispered.

"oh well," he shrugged.

it was into the second month of free diving training for you all. kate was excelling, britain, who didn't know how to swim at the beginning of filming, was consistently getting over two-three minutes in each session. you and jamie struggled, everyone else seemed to keep improving, but you both found it harder than the others.

"i don't get why we're shit though," he grumbled one night. the two of you had stayed back late on set, only a few members of crew pacing around, fixing things up for the next day of filming. you weren't technically supposed to be here still, but after getting caught up in hours of conversation together- you couldn't

"speak for yourself, i got over a minute and a half the other day, mr sixty-two seconds" you crossed your arms, leaning back against the tanks.

"put your money where your mouth is, miss" jamie cocked his eyebrows up, a smirk growing on his face. you scoffed, smiling at him, pausing for a second before looking around to see who was near you both.

you knew that people were still on set, but no where near where the water tanks were. you took a deep breath, before looking over at jamie.

"ten bucks says i hold my breath for longer,"

"twenty says you don't" jamie countered.

you paused for a moment.. "you're on."

you both quietly took off your shoes and socks. jamie turned around as you pulled off your jumper, leaving you just in your shorts and tank top. he stripped his shirt off, his shorts the only thing he was left wearing. you both tried you best to quietly pull back the thick cover over the closest water tank.

jamie did most of the heavy lifting, noticing you struggling to pull your side. you wondered what material they were made out of to be so heavy. the metal stairs that connected to the top platform were freezing against your bare feet, you tiptoed across to where the ladder was.

"let me get the stopwatch on," he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "alright," he put it down, ready to help you lower yourself into the water.

you turned around and stood on the top of the ladder, getting ready to dip your feet in first. "you right?" he asked, holding your arms as you stood still.

"yeah," you exhaled, "it's gonna be cold," you nodded.

"oh yeah," jamie chuckled, nodding in agreement. you took another deep breath before lowering yourself into the cool water. you felt the pins and needles take over your lower half as you climbed more down the ladder. jamie chuckled softly as you took deep breaths, adjusting to the harsh temperature.

"okay," you whispered out nodding "i'm ready."

jamie counted you down to start, you took in a long deep breath- trying to slow your heartbeat down. when he finished counting to three, you dunked your head under the water and held your breath.

it was freezing. usually the tanks were heated, depending on who you who filming your scenes with. filming in the water with sam? warm water. filming with sigourney? freezing, not far off from the temperature now.

the lights that usually illuminated the tank were off, you were left in complete darkness. you weren't sure how long you had been going for, but you knew you had a little while longer left in your lungs before they began to feel like bursting at the seams.

jamie watched the time count upwards as you stayed under the water. he knew that if you broke your best, a minute and thirty-nine seconds, he would tap you and get you back above the surface.

soon, you popped back up, panting from holding your breath for so long. "how long?" you gasped for air, holding onto the ladder. jamie leant forwards, holding his hands on top of yours, making sure you were okay.

"a minute sixteen," he said.

"fuck," you put your head back, resting it against the water. "you want a turn?" you looked up at him. he watched as the dim lights that were still on in the tank room, illuminated your wet skin; glistening in the late hours of the day.

"yeah," he nodded. you moved over, but kept hold of the ladder. jamie let out a breath as he quickly tried to lower himself into the cold water. "holy shit," he whispered.

"i know," you nodded quickly.

"you didn’t tell me it would be so cold, i’m freezing." he looked at your accusingly, floating back from the ladder. jamie took a little bit, trying to adjust to the water and get his heart rate down. "okay, i'm ready" he nodded, closing his eyes.

you climbed up one step of the ladder, ready to press start on jamie's phone. you counted down from three slowly for him. jamie kept his eyes closed as he sunk underneath the surface once you reached three.

the time went painfully slow. you couldn't help but feel nervous, as jamie approached a minute. he had struggled before trying to get past a minute, almost blacking out on more than one occasion. you knew that was the real reason he was determined to practice. he was dedicated, wanted to be the best that he could be on a project.

if he couldn't reach a minute almost two months into training, he felt like he was never going to improve. you shook your head, thinking about it- not realising the time clocking over sixty seconds. you watched him nervously from your spot in the water.

had he been down there for too long? you couldn't really tell. as you scrambled back up the ladder to see how long he had been down there, jamie came back to the surface.

"oh!" he panted, "holy fuck," he moved and began to float on his back.

"are you okay?" you got back down and swam over to him, neglecting to look at the time. "jamie?"

"yeah," he exhaled, "how long was i down for?"

shit.

you closed your eyes, taking in his tired expression. "longer than me," you smiled, lying to him.

"come here," he tried his best to use his head to call you over, "come lay with me, it feels unreal"

"you might just be on the verge of unconsciousness," you chuckle, pushing back to float next to him.

"yeah," he chuckled, "that's probably it."

you both laid quietly in the water, letting it ebb and flow into your ears and out. sometimes you could hear and others the water took over your senses.. but you heard jamie when he spoke.

"can you believe we get paid to do this?" he said softly. he was now laying with his eyes open, stuck to the roof. there were squares of skylights here and there in the roofing, the moon and stars were shining down on him. "like y/n, this is our job."

"i know right," you smiled, your eyes still closed. you hadn't found a time in the last few months were you felt as content as you did now. here with jamie, you felt at peace in the water. "i'd do it for free.. fuck, i'd pay them."

"me too," jamie chuckled, "we're lucky."

"i'm feeling pretty lucky," you agreed.

jamie turned his head as much as he could, taking in how you looked so carefree in the water. you looked beautiful. "i'm feeling pretty lucky too," he smiled.

"we should probably head back to the trailers soon," you sighed, "we might freeze to death in here," you laughed.

jamie let out an exhale of a laugh through his nose. "might freeze out there too,"

you suddenly opened your eyes, jamie watched as your face turned blank. "jamie," you said.

"yeah?"

"we don't have any towels,"

"... fuck"

"yeah.. fuck" you sighed.

"we'll have to make a run for it," he laughed.

"we don't have the buggies either," you shook your head, already imagining how horrid the trip back to the trailers would be. "it's gonna be a long run," you turned your head to look at him. you both just stared at each other for a moment, before both breaking out into soft laughter.

eventually, you both found the courage to pull yourselves from the cold water and back up the ladder. "oh my god," you shivered, trying your best to wring out the water that had soaked your hair. "shit, shit, shit" jamie followed you as your tried your best to not fall down the metal stairs with your wet feet.

jamie grabbed his shirt, and looked at it for a moment before deciding: fuck it, and putting it on even though he would soak it. you gathered your shoes and socks, grabbing your jumper last.

"put it on," jamie said when he realised that you hadn't put it on.

"it'll get wet," you looked at him. jamie threw his shoes and socks back onto the ground before coming over to you and grabbing your jumper from your arms.

"and you'll get sick if you don't put something on," jamie pulled the material until he had the arms of the jumper open for you to put on. he helped you pull it over your shivering frame. "you're freezing," he took notice of your teeth chattering.

"it's cold!" you defended yourself. he put his hands on your arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to warm you up. "aren't you cold?" you asked him, eyes wide.

"yeah, but you look like you're gonna get hyperthermia" he chuckled, "i feel colder just looking at you."

you laughed as another cold shiver ran down your spine, your hair dripping all around you. "let's go, we need to get changed" you nodded.

jamie gathered his belongings back up and you both ran bare foot back to the trailers. shouts of explicits filled the night air as you both were met with the cool winds of los angelas. jamie had longer legs than you, but slowed down so you could stay together.

your feet were sore against the pavement, but when you saw your trailer in sight, you stopped caring. you slowed down as you approached the door, jamie behind you waiting to see you safely inside.

you put your hands in your pockets to put out the key to your trailer. when it wasn’t there you felt the front and back pockets of your shorts. jamie noticed your change in demeanour, but when your eyes met his, he knew what was wrong. “oh, you didn’t” he softly gasped.

“i did!” you panicked, “i’m so stupid, i left my bag back at the tanks.”

jamie chuckled, “it’s fine. come back to mine for the night and we will get your keys in the morning.”

“jamie-“

“y/n, you need to get changed or you will get sick,” he said, looking at you with a serious gaze in his eyes, “i don’t want to be held responsible for that really,” he shrugged with a smirk. you shoved him lightly, glaring at him. he pushed you away laughing. “come on, let’s go.”

there were four trailers in between yours and jamies: bailey, britain, filip and trinity. you knew they would all be asleep in their trailers, trinity probably back at her parent’s hotel. jamie unlocked the door to his trailer and let you inside first.

it wasn’t messy. frankly, his trailer was a lot cleaner than yours, something that you admittedly wouldn’t expect from jamie. there were a few books scattered around the kitchenette, his camera was sat on the bench.

“let me get you some clothes,” he headed towards the bed, pulling his suitcase out.

“it’s okay, i’ll sleep in these” you said, not wanting to inconvenience him more than you felt you already had.

“y/n..” he looked at your with an unimpressed look, “you’re sopping wet, take the clothes, yeah?”

you sighed, “thanks.”

“you’re welcome,” he said, passing his black hoodie and some trackpants to you. jamie popped into the ensuite and turned the shower on, trying to get a nice temperature for you. “i’ll pick a film to watch while you shower, ‘kay?” you watched as he pulled an extra towel out for you and hung it over the glass. you nodded, trying to hide the smile playing on your lips. jamie dotes on his friends, that was something you came to notice. what you didn’t notice was how much more he dotes on you than anyone else.. but of course, everyone else could see it.

“i’ll be quick so you can get in,” you told him, closing the door behind you. the shower was needed. you let the cold water wash out of your hair and allowed the hot water to soak in instead. you quickly washed your hair with the shampoo and conditioner that was sitting on the shower floor. not bothering to stay in for much longer, you pulled the towel over the glass and wrapped yourself in it. you dried off as best you could before opening the glass door and getting changed.

it was abnormal, the way that jamie’s clothes engulfed you. the jumper was almost drowning you. he preferred baggier clothing on himself, meaning it was even more so on your frame. you chuckled, trying to dry your hair slightly before heading back out into the trailer.

jamie was sat, towel around his shoulders, going through footage he had shot throughout the day. you came and sat next to him as you watched the viewfinder play the clip. it was of bailey, trinity behind the camera.

“can i interview you?” her voice came through clearly.

“no,” bailey said quickly, hiding her face from the camera.

“ouch,” jamie chuckled, shutting off the camera. “better?” he turned to you.

“so much better,” you whispered, resting your head tiredly in your hands.

“i’m gonna shower quickly and then we can put a film on,” he sniffed standing up.

you laid back on the couch, taking up the space he had left. “you didn’t pick one?” you smirked.

“shut up,” he shut the bathroom door behind him. you chuckled, letting your eyes close. you quickly lost track of how long jamie had been gone, but it hadn’t been long before you let sleep take you. by the time jamie had gotten out of the shower and changed, you were long gone on the couch.

coming back into the room, jamie smiled with a soft chuckle. he grabbed the spare blanket from his bed and brought it over to you. he contemplated waking you up and getting you into the bed so you could sleep properly, but he knew you would refuse. so instead, he laid the blanket over you and tucked the sides in so you would be extra warm. pulling the second pillow from his bed, jamie brought it back over to your sleeping figure and tried his best to put it underneath your head. you mumbled in your sleep as jamie moved you but stayed asleep.

“goodnight, y/n” he whispered.

when you woke up, jamie was still asleep. with a deep breath, you rubbed your eyes and slowly sat up. you knew you would have to go back to set and get your keys and phone. you didn’t even know what time it was. but if you were supposed to be somewhere, someone would have come and found you both.

you left jamie in the trailer to sleep, and headed up towards set. on your walk, a buggy drove past you with sam in tow. “do any of the clothes you’re wearing belong to you?” he shouted with a smile.

“shut up!” you yelled back defensively, a smile close to breaking the surface.

“wanna ride?” he asked, the cart slowing.

“yes please,” you groaned, walking faster to hop in the back with him.

“you’re not needed till eleven, what’s up?” he asked.

“i left my stuff on set last night,” you closed your eyes, ready for sleep to takeover again. “what time is it?” sam chuckled as your face screwed up in annoyance.

“it’s nine thirty, kid” he patted your knee, “time for you to go back to bed, by the looks of things.”

“i slept on jamie’s couch last night, i miss my bed” you admitted. sam’s eyes perked up at jamie’s name.

“so that’s who’s clothes you’re wearing, hey?” he smirked.

you opened your eyes to meet his gaze. “no, no, no” you said, “don’t even go there.” you shook your head at sam before speaking again, “my trailer keys are in my bag, i was with him and he said to sleep in his trailer instead of going back so late”

“of course he did,” he scoffed, a smile on his lips, “kid wants you”

you scoffed, “sam!”

“what?!” he exclaimed, “speaking my truth,” he defended himself. you rolled your eyes in response as you pulled up to the main area of set. you and sam headed inside to see some crew members fixing the covering of the tank you and jamie had been swimming in last night. trying to be inconspicuous you quickly grabbed your bag, ready to head back to the trailers and sleep for a little while longer.

you pulled your phone from your bag and checked the notifications that you had missed; one in particular catching your eye.

[📱 bailey bass: ] oh my gosh you have to check the schedule for next week

[ 📲 message sent: ] what why?

[📱 bailey bass: ] because

[📱 bailey bass: ] you’re filming your kiss scene!!!!!!!!!!!!!

taglist: @littlexscarletxwitch, @thexplosivegirl, @lagoonabluebabe, @rexorangecouny, @ilovejakesullysdick @rhiannonhippiegirl @leelumenaura @playboykenz @couragemydearheart @whos6claire @m-1234 @coconut-dreamz @graysonshaven @stvpidscvpid @ok-boke @cvsmic-love @sully-stick-together @caniuseurname @fandom-geek17 @sully-stick-together @leaveitbythewave @mirandathebanana @aisselasstuff

#𓆝 𓆟 all things connected 𓆝 𓆟 #jamie flatters imagine #jamie flatters x reader #jamie flatters one shot #jamie flatters #jamie flatters series #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #avatar 2022

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writeforfandoms · 1 year

Text

Born for Greatness 5

Find the series masterlist

In which Logan makes his grand entrance (and there is a lot less bloodshed than most of you seem prepped for). Some discussions are had.

Side note: JTF2 is a Canadian special forces unit. Also, I’m thinking of writing a side chapter that is just Logan and the 141 pack. Thoughts?

Warnings: Swearing, Logan is a jerk, Price needs a warning label, world building, shifter behavior, pack cuddles.

Word count: 2.2k

Eventual John Price x f!reader

The plane landed back in England and you leaned back a bit, watching the pack. Soap was glued to one side of you, Gaz napping on your other side. Price was watching all three of you, something undeniably soft in his gaze.

You hadn't forgotten about Logan, but you hadn't expected him to find you so bloody fast.

You got to put your things down in your room, at least, before Price was knocking on your door, expression thunderous.

"Who did you tell about this base?" He asked in a low snarl.

"No one," you snapped, frowning. "Signed too damn many NDAs to tell anyone."

"Then why do you have a visitor at the gate?"

You froze. "Oh hell," you breathed. "That bastard!" You stepped around Price and took off towards the gate, barely paying attention as the pack all gathered behind you.

Sure enough, Logan stood on the other side of the gate, smirking, all 5’6” of him in jeans and a flannel, duffel bag dropped at his side. But his hair was a little shorter than the last time you’d seen him, and his beard was nicely trimmed.

“I told you not to come,” you growled, ignoring the gate guard and striding straight up to Logan.

“Good to see you too, kid.” His smirk widened as he looked past you. “That them?”

You finally turned to find the pack had followed you and had settled into a loose cluster behind you. You hissed out a breath.

“It doesn’t matter because you are going home.”

“Aw, but I came all the way out here just for you, kid.” Logan’s grin reached shit-eating proportions.

“You are not supposed to be here,” you growled, narrowing your eyes at Logan. “And I don’t just mean because I told you not to.”

“Been here once before.” Logan shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seen him before, too.” He nodded to Ghost. When you turned to look, Ghost returned the nod.

“...What?” You felt like he’d pulled a rug from under you.

“Few years back,” Logan said, tipping his head as he looked up at the bigger shifter. “You lot needed help finding someone.”

“Right.” Ghost huffed what might have been a laugh. “Good to see you again.”

“When was this?” You frowned a little as you looked at Logan.

“You were down south,” he said, scratching his chin slowly. “The pack in Ohio, I think it was.”

“And you worked together?” Price looked at Ghost to confirm.

“Joint op with JTF2,” Ghost confirmed with a solid nod.

Soap whistled lowly. “Now that’s not easy to get into,” he said, looking at Logan with new respect.

“Mmhm.” Logan grinned. “Now, you gonna invite me onto base, or we gonna shoot the shit out here?”

You hung your head with a low groan before you looked back at Price. It was his call, his territory.

Price clenched his jaw briefly but nodded. “Be welcome on my territory.”

“Gonna introduce me?” Logan drawled, one finger hooking through your belt loop before you could escape.

You looked up at the sky for a moment. Looked like rain. You wouldn’t mind a good soak right then. “Logan, that is Alpha Price, Ghost you apparently know, and those two are Soap and Gaz. This is Logan, the longest-running pain in my ass.”

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to be her wolverine friend, would you?” Gaz stepped closer, eyes bright with curiosity.

“Talkin’ about me, kid?” Logan smirked, looking far too amused.

“I hate you,” you grumbled, hunching your shoulders. “I’m gonna go find something tall to throw myself off of now.”

“Good luck, have fun.”

You gave up, jogging ahead to catch up to Price as the other three hung back with Logan. “I swear I didn’t ask him to come here, or tell him where I even was.”

“I know,” Price murmured soothingly. One hand touched yours. “If he’s JTF2, he’s got his own resources.”

“He’s quasi-retired. Which I’m sure is why he was able to drop everything and fly out here.” You rubbed a hand over your face. You should never have called him.

“Hey.” Price’s hand fit warm over the back of your neck. “You’re fine. Don’t stress about it.”

You sighed, some of the tension running out of your shoulders. “Yeah, alright.” You drew in a deep breath. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Price shrugged, his thumb gently smoothing over the back of your neck. “Today’s an off day since we just got back. I’ll probably be working on paperwork, but they’re free to do whatever they want.”

“Right.” You pursed your lips. You could find places to hide on base and be out of the way. “I’ll stop bothering you, then.”

“Not bothering me.” He glanced at you, eyes dark, hand squeezing the back of your neck lightly. “Stop worrying.”

“It is literally my job to worry.”

“Then maybe you need a day off.” He stopped outside one of the buildings, hand shifting just a little lower to squeeze again. Your eyes slid half-closed in pleasure, and his lips quirked. “You know where my office is?”

“Nope.” You blinked slowly at him.

“Ask one of them. I’ll be there all day if you need anything.” He ducked his head a little to meet your eyes for a moment before he released you and walked away.

You blinked after him and then turned to find four shifters all watching you curiously. You warmed and flapped your hands at them. “Shoo, you hooligans. Go cause chaos somewhere else.” And you promptly fled.

You ended up on top of the barracks (and briefly told yourself to talk to someone about this habit of going high places when in distress). The sky was still threatening rain, but so far activity on the base hadn’t ceased.

Soft swearing made you finally look away from the view, spotting Logan climbing up onto the roof. He shot a mistrustful look at the sky before he walked over and sat next to you.

“So?”

“So what?” you asked, looking back out over the base.

“You like them.” He nudged you, just once.

You blew out a sigh. You could try to lie, or deflect. But it wouldn’t work for long. Logan knew all your tells. “I do.”

“So make it work.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s never that simple.” Logan snorted. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

You glowered at him and then gave up, sighing and looking away again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, I have no idea how they feel.”

“Don’t you?” Logan looped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Or are you just ignoring signals?”

“Stop being so damn perceptive,” you growled.

“Well, no snowbanks to throw you into here,” Logan rumbled. “This is my next best bet.”

You groaned. “You’re a menace.”

“And you’re stubborn, makes us even.”

The first fat drop of rain landed right on top of your head, followed immediately by one landing on your nose.

“Aw, fuck,” Logan grumbled. “Weather here is still shit.”

You snorted, getting to your feet. “You live in Canada.”

“And?”

“You have snow at least half the year!”

“Snow is easy. This is just wet.” Logan motioned you to go down first, keeping a close eye on you. You got down to the ground with no issues and moved out of the way so Logan could get down too, grimacing at the pull of wet clothes. It had gone from threatening to downpour in less than a minute.

“Did they give you a room yet?” you asked, jogging to the door to the barracks and heading inside.

“Nah, mentioned something about it.” Logan shrugged, unconcerned, following you.

“Guess we’re going back to mine, then.” You led the way, unlocking the door and letting him in first. Not that there was much to see.

“You don’t travel with any pictures?” He frowned a little, gaze darting around the room.

“No. Usually I try to give my full attention to the pack I’m working with.” You pulled out a clean top and dry sweatpants. “Besides, I talk to people almost every day.”

Logan grumbled, displeased, but changed as well. His duffel bag had been left in your room, although you weren’t sure if it was a joke, an easy place to put it temporarily, or because someone had assumed something about the nature of your relationship.

With the both of you in dry clothes, you debated what else to do now. You hadn’t exactly come equipped to entertain, after all.

A knock on your door made you blink, but you pulled it open to see Soap and Gaz.

“Movie day?” Gaz asked with a hopeful smile.

“Alright,” you agreed. “You okay if he tags along? He gets bored on his own.” You jerked a thumb back over your shoulder at Logan.

“Watch it, kid,” he grumbled without any heat.

“Sure.” Soap grinned. “More the merrier. I’ll drag LT in later.”

You snorted softly but followed Gaz to the rec room. Soap and Gaz immediately ensconced you between them on the couch, and Logan chuckled as he settled in a chair.

“You two are menaces,” you said without heat, letting Gaz spread a blanket over the three of you. But you forced yourself to look at them a little more closely, to actually note how they behaved and their body language. While neither of them really fussed, they both paid attention to you, and to have you squished between them like this? This was a definite sign of favor, of acceptance, only enhanced by how relaxed they both were with you.

Almost reflexively, you wanted to pull away, to hide. To protect yourself from the inevitable hurt. But you forced yourself to pause, to breathe through it. You relaxed back into the couch, breathing slowly.

Soap made a pleased noise and cuddled in closer to you. Touch was important to pack, and cuddle times like this, or even sleeping together in a pile, was not unusual. But it also was another sign that he wanted you here.

Maybe even for longer than just this job.

You met Logan’s eyes across the room, knowing you were showing your internal struggle. He just smiled a little, almost the softest expression you’d ever seen on his face, and very intentionally closed his eyes. One of the biggest signs of trust from a shifter.

You swallowed hard and relaxed between Gaz and Soap, warm and comfortable and comforted.

Sometime after the first movie, Ghost settled in the room. In a chair, of course, away from the pile of you on the couch. Gaz freed himself enough to start texting someone rapidly, glancing at you a few times.

“What are you planning?” you asked him quietly, eyes narrowing a little.

“Nothing,” he immediately protested. “Well. Nothing bad.” He met your gaze for a long moment before he looked back at his phone. You blinked, startled. He… Had he just…? No. No way.

His little noise of triumph distracted you, and he hopped to his feet.

“Back in a mo,” he said before darting out of the room.

“You have any idea what he’s planning?” you asked Soap, taking the chance to get up and bring back water for everyone. Ghost blinked when you set his down in front of him, apparently surprised.

“Not really.” Soap grinned and took his, watching you go back for snacks. “Ye ken we can get our own, aye?”

“Oh hush. You’re always hungry.” You threw a protein bar at his head.

“You’re not wrong about that.”

You jumped at Price’s voice behind you, in the doorway. You turned to find a very amused Price standing there, a smug-looking Gaz behind him.

“You’re a menace,” you grumbled without heat. “Giving up on the paperwork for the day?”

“Something like that.” He glanced around the room before refocusing on you.

You tossed Ghost a snack and chucked one at Logan too before you dropped a few more on the table in front of the couch and sat back down. Soap plastered himself to your side again, looking smug.

“Are we finishing this movie or starting something else?” you asked, giving everyone time to settle down.

But you were surprised when Price dropped down next to you instead of Gaz. He leaned back into the couch, big and warm, his arm draped across the back of the couch. You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the screen even as a playful bout of bantering went straight over your head.

You hadn’t spent a lot of time with Price, and him being this close was… distracting. More than you had accounted for. Especially since he was relaxed, at ease. This close, that lovely rumbling laugh could be felt and heard.

This was dangerous. You needed to go, needed to get out before you got in too deep–

Logan caught your eye across the room, holding your gaze. You stilled. He breathed in deliberately slowly, not looking away, almost forcing you to follow along until the urge to flee vanished. Then he blinked and looked away.

“Alright there?” Price asked quietly, though you were well aware everyone in the room could hear him.

“Yeah.” Your lips quirked into something close to a smile as you leaned back and just a little bit into him, already steadier. “I’m good.”

Nobody but you noticed the smug smirk on Logan’s face.

#born for greatness #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

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haknom · 1 year

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synopsis: jungwon had many things on his mind; school, essays, exams, school events, sleep, and most importantly, you. his one and only love interest. he’s not sure what being “lovestruck” is, but when it comes to you, it all makes sense. but since he thinks this is onesided, who’s gonna tell him it’s not?

pairing: stuco-pres!jungwon x gn!reader (ft. jay from enhypen, harua from &team, choi yihyun, and kazuha from le sserafim.

authors note: i adore stuco aus (i’ve never been in stuco before) sm so ignore how many times i’ll be doing them! this is also inspired by the english lyrics of love line by twice <3 longest fic i’ve written so far tbh!! heres a playlist for fun!

warnings: one mention of dying, one mention of fainting, many mentions of overthinking, mentions of food, hints of overworking, jungwon is really stressed, accidental confession trope (it’s so cute i love it), lmk if i missed anything! wordcount: 2822 words

CHAPTER ONE. THE ROUTE TO JUNGWON

Jungwon was an awkward guy.

Those who saw him from afar would think he was intimidating and unapproachable because of his serious demeanor, but that was the complete opposite of what he was like. He was often quiet and fumbled with his words a lot—especially around you. When you were near him, his heart raced above average, sweat droplets formed on his forehead, and he would often check his pulse to see if he was dying—or another way of saying this; he felt a random gush of adrenaline.

He was practically lovestruck. Lovestruck because of you and you only.

The gestures you gave him, the way you called his name, and your smile? It was all too much for him to handle.

Another problem Jungwon has was his constant overthinking. He overthinks about homework, grades, you, and your feelings for him. Let’s just say, he was sure that you didn’t like him back. And because of that, he decided to keep shut, put his ‘feelings’ aside, and never bring them up to you.

He constantly tries to hide his trembling voice, thumping heart, and reddening cheeks while acting cool, but his heart fails him every time. The words he wanted to say the most are, “I think I’m falling for you,” but he’ll never get there in this state.

“The conjugation of this verb results in,” Mrs. Lee said, but it all sounded like mumbles to Jungwon who was busy writing in his notebook. His head rested in his palm while his other hand wrote and scribbled on the page. It read, ‘Y/n to Jungwon?’ With stick figures that represented the two and a wavy line to represent the route.

“Hey, Jungwon.” A voice whispered from beside him. “Jungwon,” it said again as he looked up from his notebook. “Are you okay?” they asked with worried eyes. He was doing fine until you questioned him.

“I’m… I’m fine, yeah. Why do you... Ask?” He responded a little nervous. There was nothing to be nervous about but the effect you had on him made matters worse. You laughed at his nervous state, teasingly. “Why are you so nervous? I only asked if you were okay.” You questioned as Jungwon averted his eyes from yours.

Another thing Jungwon can’t do is hold eye contact with people, mainly you. It puts him under so much pressure and felt overwhelming, it’s almost impossible for him to continue what he was doing before.

“I’m fine, so, there’s nothing to worry about.” He reassured you as you nodded at his words. “Jungwon and Y/n, want to explain what’s so important to talk about during this lesson?” Mrs. Lee asks while writing on the board.

“Ah, sor–” Jungwon stopped after being interrupted by your voice.

“It’s my fault, Mrs. Lee. I was just asking him for a pencil to write notes on! I couldn’t find mine‌,” you explained while reaching for the pencil on Jungwon’s notebook. He stared at you as Mrs. Lee nodded, understandingly. You flashed him a smile and he swore he was going to faint on the spot. He looked away to find another pencil in his backpack.

While doing so, he saw the doodle on his notebook from earlier. Panicking, he flipped the page violently as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye while everyone turned to look at him. He lowered his head in embarrassment while mumbling a sorry to those around him as they turned back around to continue with what they were doing.

“You must’ve seen the doodle,” was all that played in his mind for the rest of the class.

CHAPTER TWO. STUCO PRES NEEDS A REST

Student council was Jungwon’s favorite place to be. It was fun to hang out with the club members and plan the school’s future. Only problem was, you’re in it and he cannot keep a straight face when you’re always sitting beside him.

It's a huge problem. How was he supposed to be serious if you’re the one thing that can break him?

“Class comps?” Harua suggested as Jungwon looked up from the sheets in front of him, looking at Harua. “That could work–” Jungwon hiccuped as your shoulder rubbed against his. “Oh, my bad.” You apologized as he looked at you, surprised. “That… It works.” He agreed as Harua nodded, writing into his planner.

“Any—” Jungwon's voice cracked. He cleared his throat out of embarrassment. “Any other suggestions?” He questioned while trying to keep his composure. “Well, there are school dances,” Kazuha said, eyes lighting up right after. “Oh! What about a school dance with a certain theme?” She snapped her fingers, pointing directly at Jungwon. “That’s not all bad.” You’d say as Kazuha smiled, giving herself an invisible pat on the back.

“It works! Valentine is next month, but who said we had to do it in February?” Yihyun exclaimed while grasping both of her hands together. You’d smile at her action then look over at Jungwon. “What do you think? Is it a good idea?” He shifted in his seat, nodding. “…It’s good. Harua, make a note of it.” Harua smiled as he wrote it down.

“Alright! Are we settling on that as the next event?” You asked while twirling your pen between your fingers. Seeing nobody suggest any other ideas satisfied you. Randomly, the whole table began to shake. At first, you all thought it was an earthquake, looking at each other with panicked eyes—but if you call Jungwon an earthquake, then I guess you’re right.

“Jungwon?” Yihyun called out to the boy who sat stiffly. Sweat droplets trickled down his forehead, the red from his ears moved to his face, and his foot frequently tapped against the floor. You were so close to him right now. If he did one wrong move, your shoulders would rub against each other again.

“Jungwon,” You called from beside him, leaning in a bit closer. “Jungw—”

“Ye-Yes! That’s a great idea,” He exclaimed, catching all of you off guard. “That’s not what we’re talking about now..” You’d say but he didn’t care. Please just move away from him or he will for sure fall apart.

“Ah, r..really? Then… Uh,” He stuttered out of embarrassment. “You’re turning really red, are you sure you’re fine?” Kazuha questioned as he looked over at her. “What?! I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just a little hot in here.” He said, fanning himself with his hand. “It’s not even hot..?” Harua looked at Jungwon in confusion. He slowly dropped his hand from his face as he looked around for another excuse.

“Let’s just… Let’s wrap things up today!” He smiled while quickly packing up his notebooks. Everyone looked at each other in confusion but quickly followed through with the cleanup.

“See you guys next meeting!” Jungwon rushed out of the door with nothing left to say. “He’s been acting a little weird lately, don’t you think?” You asked as the others nodded. “Maybe he’s going through it? I don’t know, it’s Jungwon. He’s unpredictable.” Harua said with a shrug as Yihyun covered her mouth while letting out a small laugh.

CHAPTER THREE. JUNGWON, GET IT TOGETHER.

“When are you going to tell Y/n?” Jay questioned while spooning a spoonful of rice. “Ugh, don’t even remind me of it.” Jungwon replied with a groan while picking at his food. “Well, is it anytime soon?” Jay asked again, eating the spoonful of rice.

“Ah, I don’t know, I don't know.” Jungwon waved his hand in front of Jay who looked confused. “Jungwon, hiding your feelings won’t help you get over them even if you think they don’t like you back.” Jay scolded. “It’s not gonna make any difference. Have you seen how you act near them?” Jay scoffed as Jungwon looked at him while slowly chewing his food.

Footsteps approached him from behind as Jay looked up to stare at the figure. “What?” Jungwon questioned Jay's widening eyes while taking in a deep breath. His eyebrows raised at a familiar scent. Turning around, he’s met with your eyes. “Oh! How long were you there for?” He exclaimed out of shock.

“Not long, but I just wanted to ask when the next meeting is. You sorta rushed out of the club room the other day without telling us..” You shifted the weight on your feet as you’d wait for an answer. “Oh yeah.” He averted his eyes to the floor at the realization.

“Uh, can we make it Thursday at lunch ? If that works for you! Of course.” He blurted, looking at you again. You’d let out a small laugh while Jungwon’s ears started to turn red as Jay facepalmed in embarrassment. “That’s fine with me, I’ll inform the rest of the members!” You smiled, waving goodbye to Jungwon who does the same.

“You’re helpless,” Jay sighed, continuing to eat his lunch. Jungwon rolled his eyes at his words, “Whatever.” He scoffed, digging into his lunch tray with a smile.

CHAPTER FOUR. DID I REALLY JUST SAY THAT?!

Today was not a good day for Jungwon. All his assignments were due as well as the Geography test he had today and it’s too overwhelming for him. Not to mention the student council meeting as well. He just wants to go home and sleep. Catch up on all the sleep that he missed from last night which was full of homework and study sessions.

Student council, English, Science, Geography.. Math. It all sucked. Usually, he felt calm when he caught sight of you but not today—he doesn’t see you until the afternoon and he was sure he wouldn’t last. The weird stares he got from students as he walked down the hallway explained everything.

“Jungwon?” A cautious voice spoke from behind. Footsteps followed him while his shoes dragged against the floor. “Jungwon, you good bud?” It spoke again. Jungwon flinched at the tap on his shoulder as he turned around hastily. “Woah, what happened to your face?!” Jay exclaimed as he examined the dark circles and Jungwon’s drooping eyes. It was so unlike him.

“Oh, hey,” Jungwon said dryly. “We have Math first today, right?” He questioned, ignoring Jay’s question from earlier. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He questioned again as they walked alongside each other. “I’m fine,” he stared at the end of the hallway blankly. “You don’t look like it. What happened?” Jay asked with some concern in his tone.

“School is so tiring, I hate it. I have three assignments due today, including a Geography test, and I had to stay up to finish the assignments and study for the test. Let’s just say, I only slept for an hour.” He ranted as Jay listened.

“And there’s a student council meeting today, I regret scheduling it today.” He sighs as they both enter the classroom. “Ah, well... I’m not sure what I can do to help you. Just tell me if you need anything, alright?” Jay reassured, patting Jungwon on the back as he walked to his seat.

He was thankful to have a friend like Jay. He was always by his side, comforting him whenever he needed it. Jungwon smiled to himself as he took his seat while everyone waited for their teacher.

. . .

The bell went, signaling that it was finally lunch. Jungwon was glad to be out of Geography class. But that didn’t mean he had a break since there was still the student council meeting to go to. Yes, it was tiresome but the thought brought a smile to Jungwon’s face. He finally got to see you after waiting forever.

“Life just gets better,” he said with a smile, entering the club room. The silence was drowned out by the rain from outside as he stared at the empty space. Was he that early? He must’ve lost track of time which wasn’t normal of him.

Ding!

His phone went off, catching him off guard. He reached into his pocket to see what the sound was, but maybe he shouldn’t have. There were two new assignments from Geography for their new unit, both due tonight.

Forget what he said about life getting better.

He'd let out a frustrated sigh while heading to an empty seat at the table in front of him. Maybe it would be best to start the homework now instead of letting it pile up. He’d start the assigned work, timing himself with his phone as he waited for the other members.

About ten minutes passed by before Jungwon started to stress about the assignments. Nothing made sense to him and it only made him more frustrated. Not to mention that you kept flooding his mind as well. It still bothered him; did you like him or did you not? If you didn’t, why do you keep leading him on?

His thoughts kept going on and on to the point where the sound of the door opening was silent. “Jungwon, why were you here so early? There’s fifteen minutes before the meeting.” You said, heading his way. “Are you alright?” You questioned his still state as he looked at you. “I’m fine,” he responds.

That must’ve been his favorite phrase to say because he’s been saying it a lot lately, more than usual.

“What’s on your mind?” “You,” Jungwon confessed without hesitation.

You were taken aback by his words as both of your eyes widened. “Did I really just say that?!” He exclaims in disbelief while covering his mouth with his hand. “Forget what I said just now, it doesn’t mean anything—”

“What do you mean?” You questioned with blown eyes as you felt the butterflies in your stomach double. You already had a few just from seeing him when you first walked in. “Just… Just forget I said that.” He said, looking back at his laptop to continue his homework.

He panicked. He didn’t mean to let that out, it was only a thought. Now, look where he’s at now. An accidental confession was definitely not what he had imagined his first love confession to be—especially not towards you.

“Jungwon,” you called out his name with sincerity, causing chills to go down his back. He looked at you as you looked down at him with a look he’s never seen before, and knowing him, he’s not really good with reading facial expressions either.

Did he just ruin your friendship with each other? That’s the reason why he didn’t want to confess in the first place.

“If that was a confession just now... I want to say that I also have feelings for you. Not friendly feelings but romantic feelings.” Your heart was thumping really fast to the point where you could hear it in your ears. It was shocking that he couldn’t hear it himself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry—Wait what?!” He exclaims out of shock, now facing you. “What?” You questioned as you slowly started to regret your confession. Did you misinterpret what he said? “You like me…too?” He questioned while pointing at himself as relief flowed through his body.

“Yeah, for quite a while now. I never thought of confessing because it didn’t really seem like you returned my feelings.” You admitted as he scoffed. “Really? I was so obvious about it! Did you not see how different I was whenever you were around me?” He questioned while you shook your head.

“But you’re like that around everyone, no? Whenever I was with you or near you, you always acted like that. I even thought you liked Yihyun!” You exclaimed as he stared at you in confusion. “You do know, all of those times I've acted like that, you were with me right?” He questioned while realization hit you.

Awkward silence went by for a few moments as you two avoided eye contact with each other, still trying to take in what’s going on.

“So.. What are we now?” He asks while looking around awkwardly. “Um, I’m not sure..” You responded.

A few seconds of silence went by with Jungwon looking at you as if he had something he wanted to say. After mustering up the courage, he decided he was ready.

“Do you.. Do you want to, you know..” He hesitated as you smiled at him. “Date?” You’d finish his sentence as his face flushed red.

He nodded at your words as you took a seat beside him. The two of you smiled to yourselves like dorks in love. After realizing what you were doing, you cleared your throat, facing Jungwon again. “Okay, enough of that. What were you really stressing over before?” You asked, changing the topic. He looked at you with an innocent expression as he ranted about his struggles and worries while you listened.

What a dream come true for Jungwon and you! Although he still had a bunch of homework to finish and classes to attend, it was all good now because the main goal was success.

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thedamselzelda · 7 days

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Italian Dreams Ripped At The Seams

Author Chat: The first "chapter" of whatever I'm going to name this series. I'm not entirely sure yet, haven't settled on a name. BUT I have been DYING to post and get the ball rolling. I am in nursing school and I am writing almost everyday when I get home. the ideas are within my notes app, it's just the struggle of sitting down to do it.

Featuring: DarkEra! Dazai Osamu

Summary: Silence, it's something to fear in an already unstable world. In yours, it could mean anything. Your thoughts race as you think to yourself what the silence, the lack of communication, could actually mean, especially when that silence is caused by Dazai.

word count: 3k, fem!reader, pm!reader, sfw (light cursing), reader is occasionally called "Izanami" a nickname given to her bc of her ability (I'll let you try to figure that one out, until then stay tuned), reader is described as having violet eyes bc of her father (mentioned within this chapter) warnings: mentioned of self-harm, suicide attempt

The ceiling of the Italian Villa’s on-suite bathroom was one that could rival the Sistine Chapel ceiling, or at least, you think so. You’d never actually been or had even thought about it while living your life in Yokohama. Perhaps, now with your excruciatingly long stay in Italy, you would find yourself wandering into the building to admire another country’s history and artwork.

But that is not why you were staring at the ceiling, instead you were mulling through your thoughts of the past week or so. The shortened phone calls, now completely devoid of them, between you and… well he wasn’t exactly your boyfriend. Or was he? You two had openly expressed your feelings, you two fucked around without a care, but was he even exclusively yours?

You scrunched your nose at the thought. That wasn’t exactly the part that irked you. What bothered you was that he had abruptly stopped calling and sending his sweet letters to you six months into your “study abroad” trip that Mori had all but shoved you out for. He was always honest with you, and you with him, so what would change his perception of you now? Was he tired of you? Was he simply that bothered by your leave that distance does not, in fact, make the heart grow fonder?

You splashed more water onto your chest, resting in the warm bath, hoping it would alleviate the migraine that had accumulated while working today. Your last phone call with him wasn’t long enough. It was so short you could remember every syllable that fell from his lips.

“Mori gave him the Silver Oracle, but of course I told him I’d help him even without it.”

“Well, you’re his friend. Did he not believe you?” You brushed your hair, hoping the smell of formaldehyde had been washed away with your evening shower.

“You know he did, but I could still hear some reservations when I spoke to him. Also, you really gotta talk to him about his ‘no killing’ policy.”

You breathe out a laugh, “Look, he’s been wanting me to read those books for the longest. His mantra is his. I’m just gonna let him do him.”

Dazai sighed, knowing far too well that even if your friendship with Oda rivaled that of his, not even you could persuade him. “Oh, I also had to work with your fath- I mean, Hirotsu. I tossed him my game and he totally fucked up my win streak.”

Your eyebrow twitched at hearing the intentional mess up. “Osamu, just commit to the bit next time. Also, why would you even toss your game to him.”

Dazai chucked on the other side of the receiver, “I had work to do.”

“Oh yes, big mister executive had to go clean up my father’s mess. I see.”

You didn’t hear anything from him for a moment. You knew he was smiling, but it was a solemn one. He knew how much you wanted to be executive. You were born into the mafia, he wasn’t. While it wasn’t technically a birthright, the two of you felt like it was meant to be yours. Pushing back to the previous topic, you spoke again.

“Tell Oda that I’m looking forward to getting a letter from him. He didn’t pick up the phone the last time I called, but it sounds like he’s quite busy with whatever Mori has tasked him with.”

Dazai hummed to you in response, picking his next words carefully. Slipping into rough Italian, as if he couldn’t let anyone know, and spoke, “I’m worried about him.”

Your mouth curled into a frown, placing the brush down on the vanity. You picked your phone up, taking it off speaker, and placing it to your ear.

“How so?” you reply back, your Italian just as rough.

“He’s…” You could tell Dazai hadn’t had as much experience in the language, having only learned it to speak with you while you were in Italy. It was much more help than he could realize, as you were barely able to converse with your mentor, with your native tongue being Japanese and only knowing basic English. Dazai attempted to keep speaking, “He’s up against a skill rival to his. I just don’t foresee any outcome with this group going well.”

You hum back to him this time, unsure of what to say. You had heard through your contacts about this rival group, Mimic. Now, they had taken Ango, one of Dazai’s friends, your acquaintance. You knew dealing with any foreign group such as this always resulted in death, something you were intimately familiar with, so the thought didn’t plague you too much. Rather, the tone of Dazai’s voice and his words meant that it was Oda who could be the one at the center.

You cease speaking Italian, “I’m sure, whatever the outcome, the four of us will end up at Bar Lupin, clinking our drinks together and laughing about all of this in…” You think to yourself how much longer this sentence is, “three and a half years?”

Dazai puffs into the receiver, whining, “That’s too far from now. I’m gonna have to tell Mori I require a much-needed vacation to Italy real soon.”

You laugh, flopping down onto your down bed with satin sheets, “I would like that very much.”

The two of you fall silent, your eyes growing heavier and heavier. The silence was common toward the end of your phone calls. Sometimes, you could swear he would stay on just to hear the sound of your soft breathing. You would have, if that insomniac would ever fall asleep.

“Bella, you can go to sleep. You’ll get my letter tomorrow. Just imagine I’m reading it to you.”

“It’s not the saammme.” You groan, throwing your arm over your eyes. “I get why Mori would send me here but fuck for four years?! I would serve the organization better if I was there!”

Dazai was silent, almost as if he didn’t want to agree or disagree with your statement.

“He said it was to hone your ability now that he couldn’t focus on you anymore, so I suppose it’s for the Mafia’s benefit more so than yours. You know where I stand regardless.”

“I know.” You voice was light, emphasizing your feelings.

“I’ll be the one that picks you up from the airport, though. I’ll even sweep you up and spin you around if it gives you something to look forward to.”

You roll over, smiling into your pillow.

“You’re definitely going to be dreaming about that now.” He laughs, possibly daydreaming about it already himself.

You chuckle, smothering your flushed face.

“Get some rest, cara mia. I’ll talk to you again in a few days.” His voice was soothing and low in tone, as if he knew his voice was lulling you to sleep.

“Talk to you soon, mon cher.” You sleepily say, waiting for him to end the call-but he doesn’t. You knew he was waiting for you to fall asleep, your eyes closing until you found yourself opening them again in the morning.

You open your eyes once more gazing upon the painted ceiling above you. It had been a week since then, placing you back into your thoughts on why he hadn’t called, written, or at least attempted to contact you in some other form. Even Oda and Mori hadn’t spoken to you. Which placed you in even more confusing thoughts. Surely, you thought to yourself, surely Mori wasn’t eliminating you from the Mafia. If that were the case, you would have already been killed and disposed of, and the mistress of the Villa, nor your mentor were acting anything out of the normal.

You gaze down, pinching the bridge of your nose. Any more thinking on this topic and surely your head would explode, which would be an invited reprieve at this particular moment. Your eyes dance down to the water, noticing your scar, which was deformed by the refracting water. One on your arm, you reached over to touch, remembering how you and Dazai had taken a knife across your arms hoping for it to be a beautiful double suicide, but alas, Mori found the two of you. He stitched up Dazai, forcing you to stitch up your own wound. You could feel a tear breech and slide down your cheek.

The great Izanami does not cry.

You grab onto the porcelain tub, pressing yourself deeper into the water, forcing your neck, then your face into the water. You open your eyes underneath the water, holding yourself there. Perhaps, if Dazai is done with you-if Oda is done with you-then maybe this is how you should go. You release some air from your lungs, allowing you to sink further under the water. You release your hands from the sides, submerging them, too.

Your lungs begin to burn, screaming for you to go up for air, but you refuse. You blink as you hear a garbled voice within the bathroom. If it is the mistress, there was nothing she could do to stop you. One touch and she would be gone. She knew the rule when it came to you. You blink again, seeing a dark outlined figure standing above the tub. You think to yourself, maybe it is him. However, if it is, he would have already pulled you up. So, it couldn’t be.

You find yourself gasping at fresh air as someone pulls you up from behind, their small hands snaking under your arms.

“Honestly, could you please not kill yourself? I’ve invested too much into you.”

You blink as your eyes burned slightly from the water falling from your lashes. A hand towel is handed to you, and you wipe your face roughly before looking behind you.

“Thank you, Elise.” Mori says sweetly to the girl. She rolls her eyes at you, annoyed that she had to soak her dress to retrieve you.

“What are you doing here?” You say in a harsh tone, irritated that he has interrupted yet another attempt.

“I can come and go as I please, since I am the one funding this education of yours.” His voice returns to the irritated, tired tone that he always uses with you. He’s taken a seat at the chair beside the tub, placing a medium navy-blue box tied in gold ribbon on the side table along with a tan file folder.

“I haven’t heard from you in a week. So, I ask again, what are you doing here?” You become irritated by his intrusion, and deviation from your original question.

You sit up within the tub, not caring for his gaze upon you. He was your technical guardian after all, and you knew his interest in young girls. However, you were unbothered by his now as you neared adulthood, his interest had wavered in you increasingly. The only thing that bound the two of you now was his ownership of you and your ability.

“I suppose you were going about your days here in the villa, wondering what the outcome was with Mimic, since I suppose he told you a bit about the issue.”

Mori was visibly irritated, testing to see how much Dazai told you via your late-night calls. The two of you knew it was very risky to converse about such delicate matters, regardless of what form they were put into. However, you longed to be home, so Dazai had frequently indulged you.

“I just know Oda was involved. That’s all.” You tone was steady, you had lied to Mori countless times before, this time was evidently no different.

He arched his eyebrow, studying your face. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s resolved anyway. We got the permit.”

He closed his eyes in thought. You in turn began to study him, curious as to why he would come to the villa just to inform you of the Port Mafia’s success.

“That can’t be the only reason you’re here.” You turn in the tub, your legs folding into your chest as you cock your head. “To what to I truly owe this intrusion, Mori?”

He slowly opened his eyes to look at you. His eyes darted between your violet ones, formulating his next words. “Sakunosuke Oda unfortunately passed during the fight against Mimic.”

Your eyes widen as you lean forward. You breathe out the only word that can formulate against your thoughts. A broken, “No,” escaping your lips.

Mori closes his eyes once more, leaning his head forward slightly, “And Dazai has disappeared. We do not know his whereabouts.”

“What?!” You spring up from the tub, water splashing about the floor and onto Elise and Mori. Elise groans, reaching for a bigger towel and tossing it to you. You wrap it around your body, attempting to create your next sentence against your pounding headache. “No, he… he would have said something. He would have contacted me. He wouldn’t…”

Your words trailed off as if they couldn’t follow your thoughts.

“Therefore, I came here because you needed to be informed of your new position. Or rather, the one you will take on once you finish here in Italy.”

You could barely hear him over your last conversation with Dazai playing out once more in your head.

"I’ll talk to you again in a few days… You’ll get my letter tomorrow.”

You hadn’t actually received the letter, which is what triggered your incessant thoughts. You had gone up to the mistress, day after day, asking if the letter had arrived, yet nothing came.

“While I am completely optimistic that Dazai will return.” Your eyes narrowed, anger seething from your gritted teeth. “I am leaving his executive position open for his return. In the meantime, you will assume a specially made executive position, and I have the documents to a club and a casino I would like for you to have control over to start with.”

He tapped to the file next to the navy-blue box.

“What’s the box for then?” Your eyes glance to the beautifully decorated box, curious to what could be contained within it.

“Dazai passed it to me a few days before he left, wanted me to send it to you. Instead, I thought it would soften the blow of the pervious news.” His hand fanned over the box in a presenting motion. “It’s been screened of course. Couldn’t have a defected member sending you something that would cause my newest executive to defect too.”

He gave a sly smile. He knew of your relationship with Dazai, but he also knew you feared a life without the Mafia more.

You sneered at him, “Why would I want that from a defected member?”

Your words were merely show, something to appease Mori since you had just been given your prize, however, it wasn’t for all your hard work of the past years. Rather, it was desperation on Mori’s part to hold you closer within his clutches.

“My, my… I didn’t expect you to be so cold when it comes to Dazai.” Mori stood chuckling but leaving the box behind anyway.

He began to walk toward the closed bathroom door, Elise opening it to escape the humid air within the room. He turned on his heel, however, before breeching back into your private room.

“I expect greatness from you, Izanami. Do not fail me.” It echoed within your head as more of an order, rather than a statement.

You emit a low growl at the name, hating to hear it from him of all Mafia members.

He smiled, pleased by your response, and closed the door behind him.

You wait for a moment, listening for the next click of the door being closed. Once you heard the faint noise of Mori’s departure, you scrambled, nearly slipping, from the tub. You grabbed the plush robe from the chair, donning it instead of the towel you had been holding up. Once you had tied the robe, you tear the gold ribbon from the box, haphazardly letting it flutter to the floor. Your hands hesitate with the lid. What if he knew he was leaving? What if…?

You sit down in the chair, placing the heavy midnight box within your lap. You take a deep breath, lifting the lid and placing it upon the file. Your fingers gingerly graze the gray tissue covering the contents, trembling. You notice a splash of darkness appearing on the gray paper. You harshly rub the remaining tears from your cheeks.

Why are you so afraid to look? To see the last thing he’s left you? Because it’s the last. There is no more Dazai. He’s dead as far as the, now, executive you are concerned, but the young girl in you? The one who’s lost the one person on this God-forsaken earth that could touch you without consequence? She was afraid.

You began to peel back the tissue paper, first noticing the maroon color peeking out within the box. Your finger grazed upon the soft material as you remove the right covering paper. Your fingers go to touch your lips, a small choking gasp escaping through them as your tears now forcefully fall from your eyes. It was a scarf he had bought because you had remarked how it complemented his eyes, yet he could never bring himself to wear it, stating it reminded him too much of Mori. You attempted to pick it up from within the box, but you discovered the additional contents that had been wrapped within. Three books, all too familiar to you shifted underneath the scarf. You could hear yourself begin to sob as you picked up the last remaining things of Oda’s clutching the items to your chest. You pressed your face into the scarf, hoping to find some comfort, smelling burnt gunpowder and a faint woody scent, reminiscent of him.

You could barely see through your tears, almost missing the final present that graced you.

In Italian, evident that he attempted way too many times to write the note, Happy Birthday, Bella. All my love. ~O <3

If I forgot to tag anything, or forgot to mention anything in the warnings, please let me know! I'm still just trying to figure all this out after using Wattpad for so long.

Thank you to everyone who reads this though! Hope you enjoy and look forward to what's to come!

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x y/n #bsd dazai #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd x you #darkera Dazai

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tieronecrush · 11 months

Text

hot & heavy

chapter eight: up north

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 11k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), polite southern manners, feeling familial and self-pressure, undefined relationship, likely poor spanish grammar, pining joel, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, soft soft soft joel, sprinkle of possessive joel, Big Feelings

a/n: end of another summer of these two </3 this is the longest chapter by far but i hope you all love it!

h&h will be taking about a 2ish week break so i can catch up on requests and some other WIPs before we start the final summer!

i must say a huge THANK YOU to el @northernbluess for beta reading this behemoth chapter & previous chapters and always screaming about joel & mariposa with me. my sister wife/shared brain cell/sweet, sweet girlfriend (always willing to be the oscar to your pedro) 🥰

ok i will shush now, enjoy xxx

TO: Mariposa

Hey sweetheart, gonna head over to pick up Sarah now

Are you girls out of the pool?

Yep! Brushing Sarah’s hair out with some leave-in conditioner, got really tangled when we were swimming

Door’s open if you wanna come in :)

Joel deposits his phone into the pocket of his jeans before he steps out of his front door and walks across the grass to yours. He opens your front door and steps in, waiting in the entryway after announcing that he was inside.

You peek your head out from upstairs, looking down at him and smiling.

“Hey, stranger,” you bound downstairs, jerking a thumb behind you where you came from, “I’ve got a bunch of old childhood stuff like stuffed animals and dolls and books that I need to get rid of before the move so Sarah’s looking through everything in my room. I hope it’s alright that I told her to take what she wanted—”

Joel closes the gap between you and grins, shaking his head as he reaches a hand out to wrap around your waist. He pulls you closer with a gentle tug, kissing you sweetly.

When he pulls away, he leans in for one quick peck, rubbing his thumb in circles on your hip.

“Sorry, interrupted you…” He says with a laugh as you roll your eyes playfully.

“Yeah, how rude of you,” you kiss him one more time before continuing, “Anyways, I told her to take whatever she wanted. Not sure if you will be going home with a few things or all of it, so I apologize if it doubles the amount of stuffies that she already has.”

“It’s alright, Mariposa. No harm in her having something or a bunch of things from her favorite nanny,” he rubs your back as you turn to walk back upstairs, him close behind, “My favorite nanny, too.”

A hand dropped to your ass, he squeezes it while you climb the stairs ahead of him, chuckling softly at you reaching back to swat his hand away.

“Alright, hands to yourself, Miller,” you scold before walking down the hall into your room; he follows and smiles wide when Sarah looks up at him from a pile of stuffed animals around her.

“Daddy! Posey’s giving me some of her stuffies, and books, and dolls cause she’s the bestest. Should I take the blue elephant or the bunny with floppy ears?” She holds up both options for him to consider and Joel steps further into the room toward her, squatting down to look at them closely.

“Oh goodness, I’m not sure, Bug. They’re both very cute,” he rubs his chin as he thinks, a low hum as he looks between the two options, “I would say the bunny. How about you?”

Sarah grins and nods, setting down the elephant toy and holding the bunny against her chest, “I like it, too. Does the bunny have a name already, Posey?”

“Oh! Hmm, let’s see him…” you walk over to her and Joel, kneeling on your carpet next to him. Joel fidgets with his fingers, itching to reach out for you when you’re sitting that close. He keeps his hands on his knees, running his hands over the worn denim and focusing on the feeling of it against his palms instead of the warmth radiating off of you, the smell of the chlorine mixing with your perfume that he wants to lick off of your skin, the soft cotton of the oversized shirt that he wants to rest his cheek against as he lays with you.

God, all he wants is you. All the time.

“Now that I think about it, I think this bunny was one of my favorites when I was your age. I think I had decided he was a boy, and I named him Flopsy. You don’t have to keep that same name, sweet pea. I’m sure he would love whatever you wanna call him,” you grin and shrug your shoulders to her, picking up a different toy that sits in front of you.

“I don’t wanna call him anything different. I don’t want him to forget about you, Posey, so I wanna call him what you named him so he always thinks about you.”

Joel looks over to you as Sarah gets distracted going through your old Barbies and babydolls; your hand is pressed against your chest as you set the toy back on the floor, your other hand reaching up to swipe under your eyes. When you turn to face him, he offers you a sympathetic look that you respond to with a sad smile, tears in your eyes. You stand up, using his shoulder for support, and move to retreat to the hallway to give yourself a moment. He covers your hand at his shoulder with his, squeezing and giving you silent comfort before your touch slips away from him.

It’s another moment before he asks Sarah to wrap up with her decisions; he helps her gather everything she chose, slipping it all into a bag that you’ve lent her to transport her new belongings back to their house. He picks Sarah up as she yawns, holding her up with one arm and grabbing the bag in his other hand. One deep breath and he smells the same product that you use in your hair, pressing his head into his daughter’s hair to take it in entirely and giving her a kiss at the crown of her head. It constricts his heart in his chest, a reminder of your imprint on his life. Maybe it’s strange, but he makes a mental note to get the same product for Sarah the next time he’s at the store.

Joel and Sarah walk out of your room and meet you in the upstairs hallway. When you turn around at the sound of his footsteps, he can see the dried tear tracks and desperately wants to wrap you up in his other arm, to hold you there and do anything he could to make you feel better.

That same butterfly that normally stirs each time he looks at you drops from his chest to his stomach, the fluttering of wings turning into rolling waves of anxiety. He hates that feeling, one he hasn’t felt around you ever — it’s been there before you, and when you were away, but each time he has had you around, one smile or touch or even just a look quells his panic. His vision always tunnels on you, everything else that was affecting him falling away.

This moment though, it has the opposite effect. His tunnel vision on you spurs the rush of worry, seeping dread in between his ribs and making his chest cave in.

Without knowing what to do to help you, he clears his throat and speaks plaintively, “We’re gonna head out, Mariposa. Sarah’s got her haul here.” He holds up the bag a few inches, a benign smile that doesn’t reach his eyes passed to you.

A silent question exchange between the two of you with his eyes:

Are you okay?

To which you reply with a forced smile, still beautiful but not nearly as breathtaking as your genuine one.

“Bet you got all the good stuff, Sare-Bear. You’ve gotta tell me how all your new friends like your original stuffy buddies,” you guide them downstairs and Joel lingers in the door with Sarah, thanking you again for watching her and giving her some hand-me-downs to play with and read. You wave off his thanks and watch from the doorway as he crosses your lawn to his, the click of the door heard behind him.

Sarah speaks up from her head on his shoulder, her innocent tone asking him curious questions, “Why is Posey moving away from her house and her parents?”

Joel hikes her up in his arms, debating in his head on how to answer.

“Well, she got an adult job that she has to move for. She really wanted to do that specific job, and it’s far away from home, so she has to move.”

“What is her job?”

“You know when you see posters or billboards or commercials that sell things? Posey’s gonna be the one who comes up with all those ideas on how to sell those things.”

“That’s cool. I hope she gets to make one for Bratz or Strawberry Shortcake,” she picks up her head and looks at Joel as he opens the front door, “Is Posey gonna come visit before summer is over?”

“No, I’m sorry, mija. Posey can’t come back for a while, her job wants her to be around to learn all the things she needs to know for her job so she can’t take any days off like Daddy can sometimes.”

Sarah sighs and her shoulders fall, holding onto Joel’s shoulders as he brings her up to the bathroom to get the shower ready for her to wash off the chlorine.

“Can I talk to her when she’s gone? Like on the phone?”

“I’m not sure, Bug. I guess I would have to see if Posey’s okay with that. I’ll ask her; is that okay?”

When he sets her down, he sees the slight disappointment from his answer, clearly wanting an immediate yes to stifle her nerves about her nanny moving away.

“Well, aren’t you gonna call her, Daddy? Cause you’re friends? I can talk to her after you do,” she stands straighter, proud of her problem-solving skills and it twists his heart in his chest even more than the sight of you crying.

“Oh, mija, I don’t know…”

“I know what you can do! There is this boy named Luke in my class that told my friend Katie that he liked her and now they’re boyfriend and girlfriend and they spend every recess together. If you ask Posey to be your girlfriend, maybe then she would stay and hang out with us all the time!”

Is it possible for something to be incredibly adorable and incredibly tormenting at the same time?

How is he meant to answer that?

Why is his kid so perceptive? He was never this smart.

God damn him for actually trying to raise this kid well.

He kneels on the bathroom tile in front of her, making himself eye level with his daughter as he struggles to find an answer that will make sense to her unjaded mind.

“Mija, mi princesa, you are so smart. That is a very good idea, but I’m not sure if that would work for us. When you get older, it isn’t as easy to spend time with people cause life gets busy or people have to make hard decisions to move away or break up, like Mommy and I did when you were very, very little. I really like Posey and she is a very nice person, but she’s gotta move away, Bug. I’m sorry, mija.”

Sarah’s eyes well with fat tears, her bottom lip pouting in a tremble. She wipes at her eyes furiously as her tears fall, small hiccups shaking her body as Joel wraps her up in his arms, soothing her with soft ‘shhs’ and rocking her side to side.

“I know, Bug, I know. It’s sad when a friend moves away. But Posey will come visit, I promise. It’ll be okay, mi mariposita.”

It takes a few minutes to calm her down fully, but once Sarah is feeling a bit better, Joel gathers pajamas for her to change into and leaves the shower running for her. As he crosses the hall to leave the bag of stuff from you in her room, he pauses once it’s set on the carpet, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop what’s brewing behind them. A single sniffle is felt in his nose before he shakes his shoulders loose, stowing away the feelings to unpack when he’s alone in bed tonight, without you to wrap his arms around and lay his head on.

The noise of the annual neighborly barbecue muffles as you shut the front door behind you, sighing softly as you find some peace and solitude on the front porch. Wood creaks under your feet while you cross the large open space, taking a few of the steps down and sitting on the edge. Smoothing the skirt of your sundress over your knees, you rest an elbow on your thigh and your chin in your hand. The street is quiet, everyone inside the house or out in the backyard; it’s been a while since you’ve seen the neighborhood this way, everyone always hustling and bustling up and down the road. You tune into little changes from the stillness — freshly cut blades of grass blowing across the sidewalk, the mailbox flag barely hanging on by a thread at the end of your neighbor’s driveway, your car parked next to Joel’s truck in front of his house. The last one hits you with a bit more feeling than simple nostalgia for your neighborhood. You volunteered to move your car to give room for others from around the neighborhood to park at your house for the party, and Joel, of course, insisted you take a spot at his.

It’s a glimpse into a life you could’ve had if there were a chance for you two. But you have the calendar in your room, counting down the handful of days that you have until that car is packed up along with a U-Haul and driven the nearly 2,000 miles to Boston. The week after, you start your new job, and from then on, you have no idea what is going to happen. Christmas will be spent away from home, the tickets to meet your parents at your grandparents’ place in Wisconsin have already been purchased. No summer vacation to look forward to next year, no date on that same calendar when you would be home again. When you would see Sarah. When you would see Joel.

Grieving what could have been — a life full of love with your next-door neighbor and his kid, two of the most important people in your life despite the short time they’ve been in it.

The Millers.

Joel, Sarah, even Tommy.

Maybe it could have been you, too.

The sound of the door opening and the rush of conditioned air takes you away from your thoughts, looking over your shoulder as Joel steps outside onto the porch, shutting the door gently behind him. He crosses the porch and stands next to you, grinning down at you and nodding to the spot next to you.

“Saving that seat for anyone?” One of his hands reaches out, smoothing the hair at the crown of your head. You lean into his touch, a coy smile on your face.

“Maybe…Do you have anything to offer for the spot?” You raise your eyebrows expectantly and bite back your own laugh when Joel chuckles. He pulls his other hand from behind his back, holding the necks of two bottles of beer.

“Matter of fact, I do. Is a beer a sufficient offer?” he removed his hand from your head to twist off the cap, handing the opened brew to you, “Could even throw in a kiss.”

“Hm, I think that might make me rescind the offer entirely,” you pull on a grimace, taking a sip of beer as Joel steps down the stairs and moves to sit next to you.

“Oh, fuck off, smart ass,” he shakes his head with a scoff, reaching to take your beer, “Gimme that back if it’s gonna be like that.”

You laugh and hold the beer on the far side of you, arm extended completely as you fight him off.

“Okay, okay, enough! I take it back — I was saving the seat for you and I would gladly take your offered kiss. It would certainly sweeten the deal,” Joel laughs at the exaggerated smile on your face, shaking his head again as he leans in and gives you a quick, chaste kiss.

“You fold pretty quick when your alcohol is threatened, drunkard.”

You scoff at the playful jest, taking another sip and sending him a knowing look, “You’re one to talk, Miller. I still have the singular voicemail you left me when I was away, and you literally told me how drunk Tommy had gotten you. Lots of other things were said, too.”

“That so? Enlighten me, please, Mariposa. What else was said?” Joel settles back, resting his weight on his hands with his arm brushing your back as he places one hand behind you.

“Nuh uh, you said never to tell anyone on the voicemail. I think that also applies to your sober self,” a smirk slides across your face, another swig of drink taken as you turn your attention out to the street again.

“What brought you out here anyway, darlin’? Too much going on in there?”

You shrug, looking down at the foamy bubbles popping in the clear bottle. Condensation drips around your fingers and onto the fabric of your dress, drying in no time thanks to the heat.

“Guess so. Lots of people asking me about the move. Just got to be a little too much, y’know?”

Joel sighs and nods, his hand behind you lifting to rub circles in your lower back.

“I get it, sweetheart. Is it getting real stressful? Not too many days to go.”

“Yeah, and it’s not something I want to think about. I wish I could have y’all pack up too and move with me, but I know I have to go on my own. Spread my wings,” you look at him at the last sentence, one side of your mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles. He looks away from you at the echo of his words from last summer, taking a large swig of his beer.

It’s quiet for a few beats before you speak again, a confession rolling out of you in the intimate moment.

“Part of me wonders what would happen if we had all of this last year, too.”

Joel leans forward, forearms resting on his knees.

“I wonder the same thing, cielita. But you wouldn’t have to stay now for us to work. I think we could make a go of it this time, y’know the distance thing.”

“Joel,” you shake your head, a disbelieving chuckle leaving your lips, “If we couldn’t make a three-hour drive work, how are we supposed to make a three-hour plane ride work? You have work, so do I. And Sarah would either have to stay at her mom’s or come with you if you came up.”

“I know. I know you’re right,” he looks over at you, the look on his face so vulnerable it nearly makes him seem like a young boy. Wide eyes, softened with pleading, lips pursed to one side, chin turned down.

There’s something lingering between the two of you, the feeling in your gut that he wants to say something else, but instead, the conversation is dropped, and both of you turn back towards the street, watching as the sunset bathes your home in pinks and oranges and reds.

He should have said it then. Sitting on the porch, the sun setting in front of you both.

He should have said it then. After you confessed that you wondered what you two would be if he didn’t say anything last summer.

He should have said it then. He should have told you he loves you.

He was nearly there, words on the tip of his tongue and butterfly flapping its wings aggressively inside of him. But then you had said long distance wouldn’t work and he chickened out.

He should have said it then.

He’s going to say it.

He has to say it.

Since retreating back inside with you, both of you breaking off and filtering into the crowds of neighbors, he hasn’t stopped keeping tabs on you. Each time he gets close to grabbing you to the side to tell you to meet him later, you get wrapped up in conversations with random neighbors wanting to wish you luck and give you their goodbyes.

God, do they really need to? Do they even know where you’re moving or what you’re doing? How are they even worth the time, worth the goodbye when they don’t even know you?

They’re wasting the time he has left with you, and the frustration is sitting hot in his chest.

When he is able to catch your eyes across the room or across the deck, your eyes lock with a charge, jolts of energy and tension shooting down his spine. His fingers itch at his sides to have you near, running over the material of his jeans to satiate his tactile need.

Toward the end of the night, he lost sight of you for a good while as he chatted with your dad and the neighbor on the other side of you, Mr. Taylor. Matt he thinks? At a lull in the conversation, he excuses himself to head inside in search of Sarah watching a movie in the basement with other kids.

Closing the sliding door behind him, he turns forward and sees you at the sink, alone and washing up from dinner. He smiles to himself, attempting a stealthy approach but his heavy footsteps fail him. Over your shoulder, you look at him and grin, pulling your hands from the soapy water.

“Hey, Miller.”

“Hey, Mariposa.”

The two of you stand in front of each other, silent with gentle, closed lip smiles. It’s quiet inside, the sounds of everyone outside muffled through the glass, and the sounds of the animated kids’ movie stifled by the basement door.

What really would happen if he just grabbed you and kissed you?

Knowing his luck, your parents, brother, grandparents, everyone in your family would somehow walk in at the same time and see their responsible neighbor, and your former employer, with his tongue down your throat and hands on your ass.

That thought keeps his hands at his sides, and your voice hitting his ears pulls him out of his imagination.

“What’s up with you? You have a weird look on your face,” you laugh softly, tilting your head to the side curiously.

“I don’t have a weird look on my face. I’m just lookin’ at you,” he shakes his head and rolls his eyes, grabbing a dish towel off of the counter and starting to dry the clean dishes from the rack, “Am I not allowed to appreciate how beautiful my girl is?”

A chortle from you makes him grin, shaking your head and bumping your hip against his as you slip your hands into the water to start washing again.

“I suppose I can’t stop you from looking and thinking unless I blindfold you. But I need help drying and don’t want to clean up broken glass from you dropping something while blindfolded.”

“I am not that clumsy, Mariposa. Plus, I would clean up after my mess. Always do,” he nudges you at his side, grabbing another dish to dry and checking the time on the oven.

“So, I gotta go get Sarah home soon, but would you maybe wanna come over to my backyard once this all dies down? I wanna hang out with you,” he focuses on the dish in his hands, polishing it dry and setting it down as he glances at you.

“I’d love to come to hang out with you,” you place another clean dish in the rack, drying your hands again and waving him off, “Go grab Sarah, it’s getting late and I haven’t heard much noise downstairs so something tells me they’ve all crashed from their lemonade and popsicle sugar highs.”

Your quiet giggle brings a smile to his face, feeling as eager as a teenager to hear his crush say yes to going to the dance with him. He takes one step closer, only a few inches, and looks at you, biting his lip with a grin.

“I need you to know that I really want to kiss you right now. Like real, real bad.”

Your laugh makes that damn butterfly thrash its wings even faster inside of him, floating up to his head and making him nearly love drunk enough to forgo the boundaries around your house, around other people, and kiss you right now.

“Go,” you press on his chest and turn him around toward the entrance to the basement, “I’ll see you later, you can kiss me then.”

“Better hold up that promise, sweetheart. My feelings are still hurt after you nearly denied me earlier on the porch,” he winks over his shoulder and chuckles at your eye-roll. He makes his way downstairs, smiling when he sees all of the kids passed out with the home screen for Monsters Inc. on VHS playing over and over again. Scooping up Sarah from the couch, he holds her to his chest and slips out the front door upstairs and over to his house to wait for you.

TO: Mariposa

Heard everyone heading out from yours. I’m on the porch at mine whenever you wanna come over

Joel sends the message and watches the screen for a reply, bouncing his leg while he sits at the table on his deck.

“Long time, no see, cowboy,” you bound up the stairs and over to the table, producing two cold beers from behind your back, “Brought refreshments.”

“So polite of you not to show up empty-handed, darlin’,” he stands and steps over to you, taking the beers from you and clasping his free hand around one of yours.

“Of course, sir. Always polite, you know that,” you smirk when a groan rolls out of his chest, shaking his head at your teasing and leaning down to run his nose along the side of yours.

“Guess it’s only polite if I ask, so, may I please have a kiss, mi chica dulce?”

“Hmm…” You act like you’re thinking, squinting your eyes and tilting your head from side to side. Joel huffs again and drops your hand, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Pretty please?”

“Well, if you add the pretty,” a giggle slips from your mouth before Joel is dampening the sound with his lips attaching to yours in a heady kiss. A whimper is breathed from your mouth, your arms sliding up his chest and hooking around his neck to hold him against you. He lets his own sigh out, melting his tongue into yours and savoring the taste of you.

After a moment, you pull away, eyes fluttering open and staring up at him through your lashes with kiss-swollen lips still parted.

“Really glad you asked so nicely,” you laugh quietly and smile with closed lips, leaning up for a quick peck.

“You wanna sit here or inside or—”

“Tire swing! I wanna sit on the swing with you,” you beam at him, pleading with a pouted lip as he considers, sighing dramatically and retaking your hand.

“Lucky you’re cute, Mari. Lead the way,” he nods towards the stairs and laughs to himself as you eagerly guide him toward the far end of his backyard. Joel sets the beers on the ground, helping you to get onto the rubber swing before handing you the bottle and climbing onto the tire, starting a slow momentum and settling his legs on either side of you across the swing. Joel opens the bottles of beer, passing you one and cheersing with you.

It’s quiet for a beat as he leans his head against the rope next to him, taking you in with an amorous gaze and studying your features before he feels compelled to fill the silence.

“Can I tell you somethin’ Sarah told me the other day?”

Your grin is sleepy but eager, nodding slowly as you lean into the motion of the swing, “Course you can. I always wanna hear about Sare-Bear.”

He reaches for the backs of your legs, pulling them up and over his to entangle yourselves further.

“She was very sad about you leavin’ and was asking me a bunch of questions about your job and you movin’,” his fingertips skate over your bare calves, eyes trained on the soft skin shining with the trails of condensation from his fingers, “And one of her questions was if I was gonna call you, and if that she could talk to you on the phone after. She came up with the genius idea that I should ask you to be my girlfriend 'cause her friend Katie became this kid Luke’s girlfriend and they hang out every recess so if you were my girlfriend, then you would hang out with us all the time.”

“Oh, what a sweet pea she is. That is incredibly adorable.” A hand rests on your chest, Joel clears his throat before he continues, the words flowing out of him without any second thought.

“It is adorable. And it got me thinking, that maybe I should be fully honest with you before you leave so that you know exactly where I stand. I don’t wanna hold anything back with you anymore.” The butterfly inside of him has multiplied, feeling like thousands released in his chest as he looks into your eyes.

“Whenever you’re around, I feel like there’s a butterfly just fluttering around in my gut and up into my chest. I feel light as the air around you, completely calm with just one smile from you. And right now, I have to admit, it feels like there are about a thousand butterflies inside of me.”

“Te amo. I love you, mi Mariposa.”

He holds his breath, awaiting any response from you.

Are you speechless? Or thinking?

It’s been quiet for a good minute now.

“Joel…”

Fuck, that isn’t good. That is not a good ‘Joel’, that’s an ‘I’m about to say something that will upset you’ ‘Joel’.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What could you have to say?

You told him last year. Months ago. Did everything change that much? Don’t you still love him? He thought he had understood some signs, but maybe he was blinded by his own feelings.

No. This isn’t how this is supposed to go.

He says it. You say it back, he kisses you, takes you inside, shows you how much he loves you, and you would consider staying. Consider long-distance even. Choose him in some way.

That’s what was supposed to happen.

Temper rises with bile, burning his throat and bringing stray tears to his eyes and a tingle to his face. Power manifests itself in the clench of his jaw, certain that he’ll break a molar the longer he keeps this wire-tight press of his teeth together.

Nothing from you, still.

Fuck this.

“Is there anything you can say?” He hears himself as if it isn’t him speaking. It doesn’t sound like him. There’s venom woven in every word, the question spat out as if it’s bitter in his mouth. The self that is outside of him, screaming at him to shut up watches you deject, shoulders dropping and the corners of your lips turning down as tears line your bottom lids.

“Um, yeah. I’m sorry, I was going to say something I was just surprised…” your fingers are nimbly gripping the neck of the bottle, focus completely on the light amber liquid, “I don’t know if I can do this right now. I’m moving, and I don’t know when I could be back…”

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

This can’t be happening.

And there’s no way he can bring himself to say anything more, all he wants to do right now is get up and go inside, alone, and slam a few more beers to forget this even happened.

“It’s alright, darlin’. We don’t have to do this right now,” he clears his throat and avoids your eyes, body heating under your pitiful stare, “I think I’m gonna head inside. It’s late and I should probably be there in case Sarah wakes up lookin’ for me…”

His hands gently move your legs off of his, gracefully getting out of the swing quickly and rubbing the back of his neck as he nods up to his house.

“Stay as long as you want. I’ll, uh, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Joel—”

“Night,” he adds your name at the end, the syllables foreign on his tongue after not speaking them for so long. You’ve been his Mariposa, Sarah’s Posey, even every affectionate nickname he could think of instead of your God-given one. It’s beautiful, of course it is, but the sound feels clunky in his mouth, short against his lips as he starts to retreat, to seek out those walls he feels so comfortable hiding behind.

Standing in your room with open boxes and plastic bins piled around, you can’t seem to quite focus on the task at hand. Your mind keeps replaying the end of last night — watching Joel’s face, hearing his frustration, seeing those walls go up in real-time. And hearing your name, clipped with his ‘goodnight’ as he withdrew from you, physically and emotionally, made you nearly feel sick to your stomach. It sounded so uncanny coming from him. You weren’t only ‘you’ to him, you were his ‘Mariposa’. With his voice repeating your name echoing in your head, you resigned to packing up more of your books and knickknacks, wondering what Joel was thinking about.

Maybe he shouldn’t have left you sitting there, alone and upset in his backyard, but God, his skin felt like it was burning him from the outside in, breath tight in his chest and barely squeezing out of his lungs. He settled that night, taking a pause to figure out precisely what these physical symptoms meant for his feelings.

He had been anxious to tell you such a big thing; it was a huge step for him so he was already on edge. He hadn’t said it to anyone, romantically, since Tiff. And looking back, he isn’t even sure he meant it. He’s sure with you though.

And when you said nothing, his anxiety turned into fear which mounted into frustration and anger. Mostly toward himself; he was frustrated he put himself out on the line to get hurt, but he was also admittedly a bit frustrated with you or his misunderstanding of you. He really did think you would say it back. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d heard it from you. He’s reeling a bit, the boil of his irritation toward the situation he’s created is now simmering in his gut.

Sarah had come over to swim again, not wasting any time hanging out with her favorite nanny in the mere three days you have left at home. The two of you have a blast for the afternoon and evening, eventually drying yourselves off and heading inside to wait for her dad to come and pick her up. There’s no message this time, only a ring of the doorbell. Another tell that he’s stewing with something — upset, frustration, resentment?

When you answer the door, you tell him that Sarah’s changing into some dry clothes in the bathroom. You give him a sympathetic smile, heart racing as he steps inside after your invitation. Awaiting the moment he grabs your hand, wraps you up in his arms, rubs circles in your lower back — any of those little touches he’d sneak in when you’re alone, no stolen kisses ‘cause he just needs one’ — but those moments never came. Sarah came bounding out of the main floor bathroom and Joel scooped her bag from her, taking her hand and leading her home with a curt nod goodbye to you.

If he loves you, why is he acting this way? Did he really not mean it? Was he saying it only to appease you, what he thought you had wanted from him?

He knows he’s making things worse by being so closed off to you. But no matter how he tries, his mind keeps bringing him back to that moment where your face fell as he said the words. How instead of happiness, affection, and love of your own painted across the beautiful face he’s studied for hours, you were sad, disappointed, and even afraid of him when he lashed out bitterly.

Bile has been eroding his throat for two days now since he told you, and it is tasting more and more acrid as it sits there. It takes like his anger, his frustration, his avoidance. His disappointment in himself, his shame that he made you feel so small, so ignored.

It’s the afternoon before you’re meant to be leaving. You have the last bits of packing to get done, sitting on your bed with the curtains open and some of the last sips of Texas sun that you’ll have for a while seeping into the room. In front of you are mementos from the last few years — old movie tickets, photos of friends, football game souvenirs from college. Most are placed into a pile to be put into a shoe box to live here at home, to be opened years from now when your parents beg you to finally get rid of all of your things from their house. The few that don’t make the stay pile are memories of your family — vacation photos, funny gifts from your parents, the newspaper clipping of his first No Hitter game that your brother pitched in college. The very last item brings tears to your eyes — the tiny little butterfly magnet that Sarah begged Joel to buy that day at the farm, slipped into your hand the next time she saw you and told you it was for your new house. Looking at it with blurry vision, the colors of its wings kaleidoscope before you shut your eyes, sniffling and clutching it to your chest.

Joel watches you from his window, again, but this time it’s a much different sight. He’d come up here while Sarah is engrossed in her coloring book, needing a moment of peace to attempt to turn his brain off. It feels like these bad feelings are going to last forever; carved into his chest forever. But, as he reminds Sarah when she’s angry or upset, it will end. The disappointment in himself has evolved into understanding — you were scared but for good reason. You said those words to him last year when you had felt them, and he ignored them. He burned you so badly that you must have blistered scars on your heart that haven’t quite healed. He jumped to his anger, not bothering to pay any mind to what that moment must have been like for you. How terrifying to say anything, in fear it would be the wrong thing again.

Seeing you sitting on your bed alone and wiping at your eyes, he feels like the biggest idiot. Not only did it take him way too long to come to understand you, but he wasted what little time he had left with you. The person he loves, his Mariposa, is leaving, for real and possibly for good in less than 24 hours, and he’s let 72 pass without a second thought.

The two of you may only be transitory, seasonal in your time with each other, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to make his love for you feel endless.

TO: Mariposa

You probably don’t want to hear from me right now but please come over tonight, sweetheart. I really want to talk, and I understand if you don’t wanna listen but I’ll come banging on your door and begging.

Please Mariposa

I’ll be over at 9.

He’s been restless ever since he tucked Sarah in about half an hour ago. All afternoon and evening, he rehearsed what he wanted to say to you, whispering it under his breath until he perfected it — all of his feelings laid out, nothing missed.

Shortly after 9, a weak knock comes from the front door. Joel shoots up from his spot on the couch, shaking out his shoulders and attempting to calm his inevitable nerves while he makes the short distance to the entry. A sweaty hand grips the doorknob, opening it to the sight of you in biker shorts and an oversized Astros t-shirt. Arms crossed over your chest, shoulders rolled forward, shrinking yourself in front of him. You look tired — of packing or of him, he isn’t too sure.

“Hi.” The word gets caught in his throat and he clears it, hand twitching at his side, overwhelming need to join your hands at the very least tingles his fingers.

“Hey.” It’s breathy, exhaled with a sigh and your shoulders drop back slightly.

You step inside after he opens the door wider for you, shutting it with a click of the lock and nodding for you to lead the way into the living room.

“You could use your key, y’know. Knew you were coming over, darlin’,” he tries to lighten the mood between the two of you, the jest falling to the ground between you two when you shrug.

“Didn’t really seem right to do…I didn’t know if you wanted me to even have the key anymore. It is from last summer so—“

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. It’s yours. You’re always welcome here, whenever.”

Silence covers the room as you nod, taking a seat at one end of his leather sofa. You curl your legs under you, settling with a throw pillow in your lap. The position makes him assume you still feel comfortable here like you have a small claim over the space.

He thinks you do, he sees you in every little thing. The way you reorganized his kitchen, flitting around expertly at Sarah’s birthday last year.

You won’t be around for her ninth birthday this year.

He sees you in the throw blanket and pillows that you encouraged him to refresh. You’d complained about how crumpled they were, how they looked like they came as a set with the sofa. They did, he didn’t see anything wrong with them, but he knew it would bring a smile to your face to see new ones. And it did.

He needs to make more changes for you to smile at when you come back.

He hears you in little mannerisms of Sarah’s now, her calling him ‘cowboy’ the other day and her spewing all the gardening facts you’ve taught to her. Nearly made his heart burst — little reminders of your impact on not only his life but his daughter’s too.

You’ve made both of their lives infinitely better since they met you.

There are not enough ways to say ‘I love you’ that tell you what you mean to him. What he feels for you.

“Um, so what did you—You said in your text you wanted to talk?” Nervous fingers run over the threads of the pillow’s pattern, Joel watching you fidget as he finds his own seat opposite of you on the couch.

“Yeah, yes I did…” he sits up, a hand running through his hair before he runs them up and down his denim-clad thighs, “I owe you an apology, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you in the dust the other night, I’m sorry for dropping that all on you when we didn’t have much time together, but I needed you to know. I don’t regret telling you, but I regret how I reacted and how that must have made you feel. Lashing out. Being bitter. Closing off and avoiding you. That wasn’t fair.”

“It’s no excuse for how I acted but I was so nervous to tell you, and when you didn’t respond, I got so scared and that turned into frustration — at myself — and I took it out on you. I was mean and then I completely shut down. I am so sorry if I made you feel anything like how I have felt for the last three days because of what I did last year. I never wanted to hurt you, and if you spent the last ten months feeling like this? That's a lot of hurt to cause you.”

“I’m just—I’m sorry, Mariposa. I understand if you don’t want to accept any of this and want to leave and never speak to or hear from me again.”

Nothing is said for a moment, and it takes him back to that moment a few days ago, bearing his soul and waiting with his lungs seized up, breath held inside.

His eyes meet yours when you flick them up from your lap, voice meek, “I’m sorry I’m quiet, I’m just thinking…”

You look as if you’re bracing for him to be annoyed with that, and he slumps forward in failure, standing up and walking over to you, kneeling in front of you. His hands hover over you, unsure if you want his touch until you nod minutely. He runs his palms along your thighs, settling them next to your hands in your lap.

“Sweet girl, you don’t have to apologize for that. I’m sorry I got angry last time. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t take any sort of time you need with me. I’d wait for you forever, darlin’. You talk to me whenever you’re ready.”

“I want to talk to you, I do. There’s so much going on in my head right now,” you laugh sadly and look down at his hands on your thighs, laying your own over them, “I didn’t mean to make you nervous or scared or frustrated. I was surprised, and then I got nervous, too. I couldn’t find words to tell you what I was thinking but I—I don’t think I’m ready to say it again. I care about you so, so much, Joel, but I’m leaving tomorrow and—and I don’t know when I’ll be back…”

You sniffle and look up at him, the look on your face nearly crushing his heart to crumbs. There’s anxiety in your eyes, looking around everywhere but his gaze, the corners of your lips downturned into a pouty frown. A crease between your brow, he can see the frustration you feel. Without a second thought, he reaches up, rubbing away the line and relaxing your brow. You lean your head into his touch, palm gently skating along the side of your face to caress your cheek.

“I know. It’s alright, Mariposa, I understand. You don’t have to say it back. I know I hurt you before, and I didn’t have the thought that you wouldn’t be ready now. But I told you, I don’t regret it. I love you. I would wait if you asked me to.”

“Joel, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“But I would if you did.”

“I’m not going to do it.”

“Not asking you to. Just telling you I would.”

A chuckle falls from your lips as you roll your eyes playfully, bringing a faint smile to his face.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love. That’s not ridiculous, amor.”

“What a line, Miller.”

“Did it work?”

Another laugh, your gorgeous smile peeking through your emotion, and the butterfly inside him flapping its wings again. His thumb brushes along the high point of your cheekbone, locking his eyes with yours.

“Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t.”

Joel smiles wider, inching closer with his knees aching in the door.

“Stay the night? I’ll set an alarm for you to get back home. I jus’ wanna hold you, Mariposa. Fall asleep and wake up with you, while I still can.”

His hand moves from your face, pulling you forward from the back of the couch and wrapping his arms around you. He lays his head in your lap, your warmth easing his eyes closed. A low hum rolls from his chest when he feels your fingers card through his hair, pressing his head against your touch like a cat.

“Let’s go to bed, honey.”

Sighing, he opens his eyes but leaves his head in your lap, arms tightening around you.

“Gimme a second, I like sitting like this.”

“You’re gonna kill your back sitting like that, hon. C’mon, we can lay down upstairs,” your fingers leave his hair and he whines quietly, chuckling when you poke the side of his head before running your nails across his shoulders. He groans involuntarily, picking his head up and tugging you to the edge of the couch.

“Gonna need you to do that again, darlin’. But first, ‘m taking you to bed.” He stands and offers you a hand, helping you off of the sofa. You walk ahead of him, at least one hand kept on you the entire way up to the second floor and into his room.

Slowly shutting the door with a click, you turn over your shoulder and give him a delicate, closed smile. He’s drawn to you like a tide pulling him in, his arms finding their place around you and his lips finding their place against yours. It’s a fragile kiss, feeling with one false move the moment will shatter and reality will seep in and cloud this embrace. But for now, Joel allows himself to indulge in the narrative that his imagination is giving him; there’s no job in Boston for you, no moving truck parked in your driveway a hundred feet away. Instead, it’s him, standing with you in what should be your room, too. Kissing you so tenderly simply from the fact that he feels it’s what you need right now, what he needs. It’s another night that he is dying to show you how much he loves you, how much he cares. He would do it every night over if it meant you would stay, and right then he finds himself asking whatever power might be out there to give him a Groundhog Day situation so he never has to get to the minute he says goodbye.

Lips pull away from each other, you staring up at him as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. His hands around you slip under the hem of your shirt, seeking out skin. Fingers splayed across your back, he lifts the fabric up, voice hushed as he speaks.

“You’re so beautiful, amor.”

You give him a bashful smile, one of your own hands finding space at his upper back underneath his t-shirt, “So are you.”

Another feathery kiss. Joel guides his nose along the side of yours, crossing your cheek to press a kiss to your jaw, hiking your shirt up higher as he raises his hands on your back.

“And so smart. Way smarter than me—”

“That’s not true,” you breathe out as his lips find a spot on your neck, grazing his teeth before soothing the skin.

“It is, darlin’, and I have no issue with it. You’re smarter than me, kinder, more patient, funnier…” He pulls your shirt over your head, kissing you again before the fabric is fully off of you. A heavier exchange; throaty, inhibited moans slipping between you two. The sound, and taste, and feel of you are making him lightheaded with desire, blood rushing below his waistband.

“Made me a better man, Mariposa.”

Your mouth drops from his with your chin, his own shirt getting tugged off and discarded with yours. He closes his eyes when your silky skin, such a contrast to his worker’s hands, grazes his cheek. Your thumb on his cheekbone encourages his eyes open again, a beat of silence exchanged before you speak.

“You were already a great man when I met you, Joel.”

“I don’t feel like one without you.”

“You are,” you rasp to him, trailing kisses on his chest as you work the button of his jeans open and his zipper down, “You’re honest. Confident. So incredibly thoughtful…”

You’re walking him backward toward his bed, pushing the denim down his legs. He kicks them off as he sits down, your hands find his shoulders and scratch your nails along them like you had before. Goosebumps spread over his skin, mouth falling ajar as he breathes heavily at the sight of you sinking to your knees in front of him.

“You’re solid, steady. Reliable. You make me feel so safe, so cared for.” You kiss the plushness of his belly, one of his hands holding your head as you rub your cheek against his hardness and kiss the spot where his tip is through the thin fabric. Another chill runs through his veins, your gentle affections overwhelming him.

It’s a blur as you strip him of his boxers, his hands cupping under your breasts as you stand to remove your shorts. You’re back on your knees in front of him, a deep exhale from his chest when you wrap your hand around his hard cock; the sight of you dribbling spit onto him causes him to shudder a moan. Your motions are slow and deliberate as you stroke him, kissing his tip. Fingers run through your hair, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him as you start a measured pace.

“Fuck, sweet girl…So good to me, so good for me always.”

As you swallow once around him, his head falls back with a reserved moan of your name, tilting his chin back down to look at you.

“Feels so perfect, sweetheart. Eres todo para mí. You’re everything to me.”

He hears a hum from you in response, the vibrations adding to the sensation. You work him toward a high, chest rising and falling shallowly. Before he can come, he eases your mouth off of him, shaking his head.

“Wanna come inside you, mi Mariposa, c’mere.” He helps you to stand, crawling back on the bed and pulling you over him. Catching your lips with his, his hand slips between your thighs, sighing as he feels your arousal coat his fingers. As he teases your entrance, you stop him with a grip on his wrist, pulling out of the kiss.

“I want you now. I wanna feel you.” Dilated pupils in your pleading eyes face him, brow knitting with concern.

“Baby, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t. You would never. I want it, please,” you give a sly smile, pursing your lips, “Plus, I’m leaving tomorrow. You have to gimme what I want.”

Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls his hand away, your grip loosening as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth to suck clean. He holds them there, attempting to memorize the taste of you. Your hand tightens at his wrist again, coaxing his fingers away from his mouth.

“You’re right, Mariposa. Anything you want, I’ll give to you.”

“Can I—Could I try…” you trail off, looking down coyly.

“What, darlin’? What do you want to try?” Languidly, his palms run up and down your sides as you sit on his thighs, his back against his headboard.

“Could I try being on top?”

He smiles widely at your question, the sweetness in your voice taking him back to last summer, experiencing your firsts with you.

“You wanna ride me, sweet girl?”

A nod keeps his smile there, leaning in and kissing you — all teeth.

“I’m yours, sweetheart. Take what you need, amor. Déjame ser lo que necesitas. Úsame. (Let me be what you need. Use me.)”

A nervous walk on your knees brings your wet cunt to hover over him, one of his hands wrapped around the base of his cock while the other guides your hips. You grip his shoulders tightly, your nerves taut in your forearms. When you start to sink onto him, your face contorts with uncertainty, a look he can’t distinguish between pain or pleasure.

“You okay, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

“No, no. Well, a little, but I wanna keep going.”

“Maripo—”

“I can do it. I can take it.”

Hearing that dries his mouth, his face heating up with a craving for you.

“Okay, baby. Keep goin’. Talk to me.”

You whimper as he fills you up more, still not fully wrapped in your walls. Your brow relaxes as you adjust to the stretch of him, tongue poking out to wet your lips.

“Doesn’t hurt as much. Think I can do more.”

“Good girl. Take what you can handle, Mariposa. I’m here if you want to switch, amor.”

With a hushed exhale, you’re fully filled with him, a quiet moan of his name breathed out as your eyes flutter close and you lean into him.

“Fuck, Joel, feels so good like this…”

“I know, baby, feels real good. You always feel perfect.”

After another minute, your hips start a relaxed rhythm, rising and falling with a steady grind. It’s driving him mad, the sight of you over him, using his cock to get yourself off. Wanting him enough to give him this, the image of you over him — a fallen angel fucking him. That’s what you have to be.

Your legs tremble from the burn of them, and he swoops, holding your hips still as he starts to fuck up into you. Joel maneuvers his feet under him to get more leverage, giving it to you hard and steady how you like it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel, honey—”

“Again, Mariposa, tell me again how it feels.”

You whimper, looking at him with a pained pleasurable expression, his cock driving into you at a perfect pace.

“Gonna miss this, miss you. Never gonna feel this good with anyone else.”

Joel groans from under you, smirking wildly as he moves faster.

“That’s right, darlin’, nobody’s as good as me. Ruined you for everyone else, didn’t I? S’cause it’s my pussy, remember? Mine.”

As you nod furiously, he uses the moment to flip you around, pressing his weight over you to drive you into the mattress with his strong, steady thrusts.

“Yours, honey. Always gonna be yours.”

“Fuck yeah, sweetheart.”

“M’gonna come, Joel, fuck I—”

“Come for me, mi Mariposa, let me feel it.”

A mess of moans and whines leaves you underneath him, breathless as he fucks you through the intense orgasm, your walls tight grip plummeting him to the edge and snapping the taut rope inside of him.

“Fuck, Mariposa, fuck. I love you, te amo. Te amo, mi Mariposa. I fucking love you,” he sighs, eyes squeezing shut as he fills you, fucking his come further into you with a few quick thrusts. He blindly searches for your lips, passionately kissing you with all of the emotion he can muster.

Once the two of you have come down completely, he eases out of you and slips on boxers to go out to the hallway, grabbing a washcloth. He wipes some of the sweat from your body, swiping the cloth between your legs before he deposits it in his hamper, padding over to his dresser and pulling out the navy blue shirt that you love. At the side of his bed, he gently gathers you up to sit straight, slipping the fabric over your head and guiding your arms through the sleeves. Your malleable form falls back to the mattress, pulling him to lie down with you.

“You can keep that shirt, y’know, for when you’re away. I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” the two of you tangled up in each other, your head ending up on his chest with one leg between his, “M’gonna wear it all the time and then it’s not gonna smell like you anymore.”

“Jus’ send it back then, sweetheart. I’d give you another. And another. And another, until you’re sick of my shirts.”

“Doubt that’ll ever happen.”

“Never say never, Mariposa,” he brushes his fingers against your cheek, kissing the top of your head, “Gonna find someone for you, or it’ll end up in the bottom of one of your drawers. Nothin’ wrong with that, darlin’. Means you’re living your life, which is the only thing I could ask of you.”

At the sound of a sniffle, he tucks his chin in, pulling himself away from you to see your face. There’re damp paths down your cheeks, glossy eyes, and runny nose.

“Oh, sweet girl, why are you crying? Did I actually hurt you before? D’you feel okay?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” your voice is thick, tightening his chest and squeezing his ribs, “M’just…I’m gonna miss you so much, Joel. I feel like we could figure things out for us, and—and now I have to move across the country. And I don’t know when I’ll be home, and we can’t make promises to each other. And-and—”

You hiccup with a cry, Joel reaching to wipe away your tears.

“And I have to leave Sarah, too. I feel so sad that she’s sad and asking questions that you can’t answer. I feel like I’m making a mistake, Joel.”

It would be easy for him to lean into this spiral of yours, to convince you to stay, selfishly, to abandon your plans — your dreams. He would be the biggest asshole ever if he did that.

“Mi amor, mi Mariposa, it is scary to leave home and start over somewhere new. I am going to miss you so much, so fucking much you don’t even know, but you are not making a mistake. It’s never a mistake to pursue what you want, what you’ve dreamed about and worked towards for years. You gotta do this for yourself, baby, and it will be hard at first, but if I know anything about you, you’re gonna be kicking ass and signing checks at that place this time next year. We love you, Mariposa, we do. But that won’t change with you across the country. You’re a part of our lives. Always gonna have a place if you want it, my sweet girl. It’ll be alright.”

He nestles you into his side again, lips finding your hairline and pressing gentle kisses there. You rest on his chest again, sighing as your larger cries calm to smaller ones.

“What do you think about when you think about the future with me?”

He hesitates, not wanting to encourage any more thoughts about staying — you have to go.

“I don’t know if I should answer that, Mariposa, I don’t want you to be sad again.”

“Please? I want to have the same daydreams as you. So we can have a life together even if it’s just our imaginations.”

Holy shit, he thinks his heart is actually stopped and shattering.

How in the world is he going to get over you?

“Alright, for you, darlin’... A future with you…”

“I think about us actually giving it a proper go. Tellin’ your family, tellin’ Tommy and Sarah. She’d be over the moon. Think we’d date for a while, but I’m an impatient bastard, so I bet I’d be asking you to move in before we reached a year. And if you agreed, we’d wake up and fall asleep to each other every day. Go grocery shopping. You’d help Sarah with her homework cause you’re smarter than me and I’d make dinner for my girls. We’d be subject to many Disney movies, but I would make you watch all my favorites. And I would happily watch yours. We’d just live together. Be partners. Help and hold each other when we need it. I’d ask you—” he catches the words in his throat, “I’d ask you to marry me. Would be the easiest question, but I’d still be scared shitless about your answer cause I know I still wouldn’t understand how someone like you would want someone like me. We’d get married, live all that domestic bliss. And…and I’d wanna have a baby with you if you wanted to. You’re going to be a great mom. And I would be so lucky to be your husband and the father to your baby.”

He hears your sniffle again and shakes his head while holding back a smile.

“I told you I didn’t want to make you sad again, Mariposa.”

“No, no! Not sad. At all, I promise. I just, I would want all the same things if we could have it. I’ve thought about all of that with you,” you hold him tighter, taking a deep breath into his chest while he feels tears litter his skin.

Both of you lay with each other, the sounds of your steadying breathing the only noise in the room. Joel switches off the lamp, settling more on the pillows and closing his eyes after you do; his fingertips run up and down your back, compelled to break the silence at that moment with a hushed voice.

“Estás hecho para mí. El universo te hizo para mí. Te amaré durante toda mi vida. Te amaré mañana. Te amaré dentro de cinco años. Todavía te amaré incluso cuando soy viejo y gris, mi Mariposa.”

“What does that mean? Will you tell me?” you ask sleepily.

“You're made for me. The universe made you for me. I will love you for my whole life. I will love you tomorrow. I will love you five years from now. I will still love you even when I'm old and grey, my butterfly,” his own voice breaks slightly, opening his eyes to have his vision blurred around the edges. He blinks away the tears, quiet falling over the room again as you fall asleep in his arms.

When Joel is sure that you’re sleeping deeply, he whispers to you, “I just want you to be happy, mi Mariposa. Whatever that looks like, I want it for you. I love you. I miss you already.”

Metal rumbles as your dad pulls down the back of the U-Haul truck, securing the lock on it after you’ve double-checked that everything is packed securely. It’s a quiet morning on your street, the only other souls awake at this early hour are Joel and Sarah, the younger of the two having insisted on seeing you off so she can wave goodbye. They’re standing on their porch like last summer, Joel behind Sarah with his hands on her shoulders and sleep still in his eyes.

He woke you up just an hour ago to sneak back home, the goodbye between you two somber and prolonged. It was cutting it close to your parents’ alarm when you finally dragged yourself out of his arms and out of his house, looking back over your shoulder at least three times while your feet carried you across the lawn for the last time. He waited, watching you from his doorway until you couldn’t look anymore, quietly slipping inside and upstairs to get ready to go.

Now you’re standing on your driveway, your mom and brother in their pajamas while your dad is dressed to do the drive with you over the next few days. You exchange one last goodbye with each of your family members staying home, the truck rumbling to life as your dad ignites the engine from inside the cab.

You don’t know when you’ll be back here. Home. With the Millers right next door. With Joel, your Joel, always there for you.

One last look towards their house, Joel offers a wave, and Sarah’s lip visibly trembles, even from as far from her as you are. In the next second, she’s bounding down the porch stairs, little legs carrying her over to you in her pajamas. Her small frame slams into your legs, wrapping around you as she hugs you tight and cries.

“Please don’t go, Posey. Please,” she sniffles, looking up at you with wet eyes, “I don’t want you to go, I want you to be around for the summer and next summer and next summer.”

You bend down to her level, wrapping her up in a squeezing hug, whispering to her, “I’m so sorry, Sare-Bear. I have to go, but I promise I’ll be back and you’re going to be the first person I see. Gonna miss you so much, sweet pea.”

Joel has jogged over by that point, sighing to himself before he walks over to the two of you, picking Sarah up to continue to comfort her when you pull out of the hug.

“You’ll have the best summer, Sare-Bear. And I am definitely going to call to hear all about it, okay?”

She nods and wipes at her eyes with her whole hand, leaning into Joel’s shoulder. You look at him, a tight smile communicating the same sentiments you did this morning.

I’ll miss you. I care so much. You know how I feel about you.

I’m not gonna be able to forget you.

His voice pulls you out of the memory of an hour ago, the faintest glassiness to his eyes.

“Good luck, sweetheart. You’ll do great things.”

With a hard swallow, you give him a nod, holding back tears of your own.

“Thank you, Joel. Thank you.”

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @beee-haw @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @jupitren @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @livingdeadmaria @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost

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luv4fandoms · 2 years

Text

The Rut (David x Fem! Reader)

It is finally here! The last installment of The Rut series! I am so happy that everyone enjoyed this series, it was definitely fun to write the boys in just complete feral mode lol. I'll definitely be writing for stuff for the boys in the future!

(Also since I've been asked, this isn't really a poly relationship series, this is a "only (insert boy) likes reader" kinda thing).

I really wanna thank everyone who has commented on, reblogged, or just liked this series. Y'all really kept me going when I had writers block, and I couldn't have finished it without y'all. And a big shout out to @auntvamp who came up with the original headcannons about the boys in rut, because without them, this series wouldn't be a thing lol. I'd highly suggest reading that first.

Lastly I'd like to thank @santacarlatourism for their headcanons of each boy's scent on my post

I also got inspired by these headcanons

For this I know a lot of people write David as a rough dom but I wanted to explore something else, I don't think David would always be rough with his mate, I see him having a soft side too, so this is that, and also him slowly losing control lol.

Paul, Marko, Dwayne,

Word Count: 5,376 (of course this cocky mofo ended up with the longest chapter 🤣)

Pairing: David x Fem! Reader

Warnings: DETAILED SMUT! THAT IS ALL THIS STORY IS!! MINORS DNI!!

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Ko-Fi

"Don't invite him in"

That's what Dwayne had told you when he informed you to stay away from the cave for the next couple of days. You were confused when Dwayne had met you at the entrance the night before, usually David was the first one out and ready to leave, typically smoking while the others got ready. You were fully prepared to spend the night at the boardwalk with the boys and your favorite vampire, but Dwayne had quickly shot down those plans.

"Wait…A rut? Like how animals have ru-"

"Yes just like that" he told you as he walked you back to your car.

"When we go into these we are very dangerous to you, since you're a human and not a vampire like us you're far more…"

"Fragile" you finished, the boys had all told you that before, taking it upon themselves to protect you all the time because you were "like a China doll" in Dwayne's words.

"So that's why you need to stay away for a couple of days," he explained, to which you could only simply nod as you climbed in your car. Your thoughts suddenly taking a turn as you thought of him…they were all extremely attractive…him especially…and you were sure him taking a partner for a quick time was something he had done before…would that happen again? After all, if he was gonna kill them anyways why not? It didn't matter if they were fragile right? But why did that thought make you wanna cry even more in this situation?

"It isn't like that" Dwayne's voice broke you out of your thoughts and you were unsure if he had read your thoughts or could just read your emotions.

"Go home y/n, don't overthink ok, you can come back soon" he told you with a small smile as he shut your car door, watching as you started the car and rolled down the window when he knocked

"And one more thing" he told you while leaning in.

"Don't invite him in"

So here you were, sitting in your room, listening to music and drawing, wishing you could just go hang out with the boys, you hadn't really realized just how much of a staple in your life they had become until now. Night's seemed boring without them…without him. Sighing you sat your sketchbook down on your nightstand after you realized that in your zoned out state you had successfully sketched what was probably the twentieth picture of him that resided in the book. Stretching, you got up and changed the music, putting on your newest Billy Idol album. You had joked to David before that he reminded you of the singer, a comment that although he didn't reply to, he seemed complimented by. You had actually come across David listening to a Billy Idol cassette tape one day in the cave and it only solidified that thought even more for you lol. You began dancing around as White Wedding started to play, losing yourself in the music for a moment, before you heard a gentle knock on your window. Your body froze instantly, shifting your gaze to the closed curtains. You slightly wondered if it had been the wind, but only slightly, you knew that was definitely a knock.

"I know you're in there Sweetheart, no use hiding" You immediately felt a shiver run down your spine at the voice, a deeper tone with a slight growl mixed with it told you he was currently vamped out.

'Don't invite him in' Dwayne's words rang in your head, earning another low growl from outside.

"You don't take orders from him, understand?" Oh shit, he was reading your thoughts. You had made him promise when you first learned what they were that he wouldn't do that anymore. A promise he seemed like he had no problem breaking tonight.

"But.. David…Dwayne said it would be dangerous to-"

"Funny" you heard him let out a dry chuckle.

"I thought I just said you don't take orders from him" You gulped at his tone, a sarcastic David was a dangerous David at times, and you had a feeling this was one of those times.

"Let me in Doll, I'll explain it all better than he could" You hesitated still, true, Dwayne hadn't explained very much, and you were still curious. And if you were being honest, when vamped out David probably had the most control over himself out of all of them, besides maybe Dwayne…Maybe it would be safe if you let him in. Slowly making your way over towards the window you heard what seemed like a pleased…purr? You pulled back the curtains, meeting the golden gaze of the vampire on the outside of your window. His figure looming on your small balcony. You unlocked and opened your window, leaning out to speak to him. When suddenly your lips were captured in a searing kiss, his gloved hands holding your face, softly yet firm as he pulled you closer, fangs brushing your lips as he opened your mouth with his, tongue dominating the kiss. You weren't sure what was making you dizzier, the kiss that was quite literally stealing your breath away, or his scent. David always smelled like a mixture of cigarettes, the cologne he always stole that had a very earthy smell to it, and a scent that you could only describe as simply him. But tonight his scent seemed to be cranked up to a hundred, clouding your brain of anything but him. When he finally seemed to remember you needed to breathe he pulled away, forehead resting against yours as he watched you try to catch your breath, pupils blown and heart racing as you met his gaze.

"David," you spoke quietly.

"You're gonna be a good girl and let me come inside, right?" He asked, watching the shiver that went down your spine at the nickname, a mental note he tucked away for later.

"Right?" He asked again, watching as you slowly nodded.

"Words Sweetheart" he gave you that little smile as he ran his thumb over your lip.

"You can come inside" you spoke once you found your voice.

"That's a good girl" he spoke, before the next thing you knew you were back inside your bedroom and being thrown onto your bed.

"Clothes off Sweetheart, I'm going to fuck you first, then I'll explain everything" he commanded, staring you down as he slowly took his coat off and laid it over your desk.

"W-What?" You stuttered, looking at him with wide eyes, did he actually just say that so casually? He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, waiting.

"I thought you were going to be a good girl tonight y/n" he spoke while slowly pulling your chair out and sitting down.

"I-I.." you weren't sure what to say at the moment, voice gone as you got lost in that golden gaze.

"I don't mind punishing you" he warned, and the look in his eye told you that part of him wanted to, wanted you to misbehave so he could. Deciding to play it safe, for now, you quickly took off your top and bottoms, leaving you in your simple lace panties, bra having been discarded earlier in the night. You watched his gaze darken as he took you in, golden eyes turning a bit orange.

"Come here" he spoke simply, but his tone told you that there was no arguing. Slowly you stood from your bed, taking careful steps over to him, stopping once you stood directly in front, your legs lightly grazing his knees. You slowly met his gaze again, those hard features and burning eyes, you knew anyone in your situation would have ran, but you knew David, and maybe some deep twisted part of you wanted this more than you even recognized. Wanted to be completely dominated by this man, this creature. Maybe you should have also not thought those things so loudly, if the absolutely predatory grin was anything to go by.

"Completely dominated huh?" He asked while leaning back in the chair, he watched as you gulped, listened as your heart picked up speed, smelled as a fresh wave of arousal hit you. It wouldn't take much to have you exactly where he wanted you, completely willing, completely his.

"On your knees Sweetheart" he told you with a low growl, and he watched as you instantly fell onto your floor, hands hovering just above his knees before lowering themselves to the ground. Good girl, you already knew to wait for his orders. He watched you watch him, watched as you tried not to show how much you were trying to gain some form of friction against where you needed it most. He could feel himself stir even more at the sight, could feel the inner beast trying to claw its way out, yelling at him to simply take you, stop these foolish games and claim what was his. He hated that feeling, hated losing control. Deciding to relieve both himself and you he tapped his belt buckle, eyes still never leaving you as you looked up to meet his gaze before setting to work undoing his belt and then pants, looking up to silently ask if you should stop or keep going.

"Well? You've been a good girl so far, are you afraid to unwrap your treat?" He smirked, watching the blush crawl up your neck and cheeks as your eyes went back to his pants. He lifted himself slowly so you could take them and his underwear off, pulling the material down to his ankles, stopping only because his boots got in the way. You went to remove them but he stopped you with a hand on your head.

"Those can wait" he told you, sliding his hand from your hair to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your lip before slowly parting them, watching as you wrapped your lips around his thumb, eyes sliding closed as you sucked the digit. David watched you intensely, feeling himself jump at the sight, and knowing that he wanted, no, needed your lips around him, now. Gently pulling his thumb away with the thinning self control he had left he opened your mouth, watching as your eyes met his.

"I have something better for you to use that pretty mouth on" he told you, watching as your eyes moved to finally take him in. He was average length, but pretty thick, a size that had you both clenching around nothing and also afraid of him not fitting. Again, reading your mind, you heard David chuckle.

"That's why we have to get both of us nice and wet, I think you know how to do that, don't you?" He asked, letting go of your mouth and leaning back in the chair, legs opening just a bit more.

"Yes sir" you nodded, sitting up a bit, hands finally touching his thighs, you could hear the low rumble leave him as he stared at you, you had taken a chance by calling him sir, but you had a very strong feeling he had that sort of kink, after all, David always loved being in charge.

"Look at that, I don't even have to teach you manners, you are already trained for me" he smirked, gathering your hair in his gloved hand as you slowly wrapped a hand around his length, feeling it twitch, before lowering your lips to close around the head.

"Already my good girl" he sighed, watching as you ran your tongue along the slit before lowering your head, hollowing your cheeks, and taking more of him in while running your tongue along the vein on the underside. What your mouth couldn't take, you hand took care of as you began bobbing your head, twisting your fist as you stroked in time with your bobs. You hadn't expected David to be a moaner or a talker, so when you only received grunts and huffs you knew not to be disappointed. You let those guide you, noting when he would tighten his grip on your hair, or when he would ever so slightly lift his hips, when he would hold his breath, or when his grunts sounded a bit more strained.

"Teeth" he grunted out at one point, tightening his grip on your hair again. You weren't sure what he meant, so you went off of what you guessed and prayed that it was right, you were doing good so far, you didn't want to fuck up now. Letting your teeth graze against his length you felt him stiffen, and instantly you feared you messed up, but that was when you heard it, the first moan, even if it was extremely quiet. With more confidence you let a little more of your teeth scrape along him as you worked, hearing his breath quicken once more. You chanced a glance upwards and noticed a sight you didn't expect, David with his eyes closed, head slightly tilted backwards, and mouth slightly open. Feeling brave after your achievement you decided to try something else. Sneaking your other hand up, you gently wrapped your hand around his balls, just as you took as much of him as you could and swallowed. Feeling him stiffen instantly, and hearing a clearly strained.

"Fuck" before his eyes met yours, orange gaze blazing before you were suddenly tossed on the bed, watching as he tore the rest of his clothes off.

"Did I say you could do that?" He asked, caging your body with his. You slowly shook your head but David caught your jaw in his now gloveless hand.

"Did I?"

"N-No sir" you replied, honestly a little scared, as well as turned on. David looked almost unhinged at the moment, like he was a breath away from just bending you over, and maybe that's what you wanted.

"So why did you think it was ok?"

"I-I just"

"Just what? You had been doing so well"

"I just wanted to make you feel good" you told him, and watched as he stopped, and blinked down at you. Honestly he hadn't expected that reply. He figured you were tired of playing the good girl role and wanted to disobey, wanted him to put you in your place, wanted him to just take you already…He hadn't expected you to tell him you were just trying to make him feel good.

"Just trying to please your master?" He asked with a smirk, watching as you nodded, eyes wide with an innocence that he knew was false, but God did you know how to play on that. He knew how dirty your mind was, he had read it so many times, times where you would come to the cave, wet and smelling like pure heaven. He wanted, no, needed to know what had gotten you that way, so he'd delve into your mind, needing to know if he'd have an easy kill that night or would it be something else, and what he'd find would cause his own stirrings. Things that you had read about in your little erotic novels, but played out by the two of you. You riding him, which he'd have to be convinced about. Him bending you over his motorcycle, that he could and would definitely arrange. Then there were the ones that filled your mind after you learned that he was originally a gunslinger before he became a vampire. It seemed your naughty little mind lived on the saying "save a horse, ride a cowboy". That heavenly smell surrounded him once again as you looked up at him, muttering such words that had his thin self control on the verge of snapping.

"Always wanna please you sir" you whimpered, slightly wiggling under him, no doubt seeking friction for the overwhelming heat that was bothering you. He decided to take pity on you, at least that's what he'd tell you, when really the beast in him was clawing at his mind for a taste of you.

"Such a Sweetheart" he smiled, leaning down to kiss your neck, chuckling as you leaned your head to the side, already willing to give him access to your blood, but that wasn't the taste he sought, at least not at the moment. Pressing gentle kisses down your collarbone, stopping to give your breasts attention, he swirled his tongue around your nipple before closing his lips around it, fangs grazing your skin as his hand came up to pinch and play with your other one, before his mouth and hand switched. Only when he felt like he had made you a breathless mess did he continue his journey down, hands sliding along your sides as he kissed down your stomach, pressing kisses to your hip bones before hooking his claws into your lace panties. His eyes met yours, a sinister smirk on his lips as you watched him tear your panties in half, the sound of tearing fabric meeting your ears while your eyes never left his. You watched him toss the pieces to the sides of the bed before he pressed kisses to your thighs, so close to where you wanted his mouth but never giving you what you needed.

"Beg" he told you, watching as your eyes met his again, having closed them for a moment.

"Please David" you whimpered, yelping slightly when his hand landed a smack on your thigh.

"Care to try that again?"

"Please sir, please I've been good" you begged.

"Have you? I don't think you have"

"I-I was just trying to make you feel good" you explained again, watching as he stared at you.

"Please sir, I promise I'll be good" you told him, gripping at the sheets, trying to will him to do something, anything to calm the fire that was slowly burning through you. Meanwhile David was fighting with himself, he wanted to tease you, have you a real begging mess, but the other part was clawing at him to just give in and take. This time he decided to give into that beast within and in an instant his mouth was on you, tongue swiping along your slit and watching as you threw your head back, a loud moan of his name tearing from your lips. He decided this time he wouldn't reprime you for it, mainly because he was becoming too lost in your taste, his own grunts muffled as he buried his face deeper, nose brushing your clit while his tongue dipped inside. He felt your legs close around his head, his hands still resting on your thighs, and again he decided to let it slide, instead grabbing your hips and letting himself explore you, commiting to memory every swipe of his tongue that had you moaning his name, every suck that had you gasping, every twist and turn that had your heart beat picking up and the beast in him clawing at the fraying seams of his control. He wanted to slam his fingers in you, listen as you moan at the fact that something was finally filling you, but he knew that his claws and that sensitive of an area shouldn't mix, so he settled on completely devouring you, being careful of his fangs as he brought you closer to your edge. Your legs tightening around him, hips lifting to try and get closer, hands grabbing at his hair while your head was thrown back, eyes shut and mouth open, begging him to not stop, telling him how good he felt and how close you were. He could push you off the edge in just a matter of seconds…could…but wasn't going to. Easily unwrapping your legs from him, he lifted himself away from you, watching as you whined and looked up at him with pleading eyes. Chest rising and falling rapidly as you slowly came down from the high he had built you up to.

"Why?" You whimpered, and David simply smirked as he wiped your essence from his face.

"You still had to be punished Sweetheart" he told you, watching as you pouted, head turned to the side while you tried to catch your breath. He chuckled at your pouting, knew how frustrated you were, because honestly he was at that point as well. He knew that playtime was up. Grabbing your thighs again he pulled you down the bed, wrapping your legs around his hips. He watched you gasp at being manhandled but he knew you liked it, he could smell that you liked it.

"Now, are you gonna be my good girl again? Or do I have to punish you again?"

"I'll be good I promise" you panted, wanting that high again that only he could bring you to, he'd make sure you knew that, that only he could make you feel this way.

"Good girl" he growled, reaching down to drag himself through your wetness, watching as your hips lifted slightly, trying to coax him in.

"Such a greedy girl" he smirked, before slowly entering you, watching as you threw your head back at the feeling of finally having him inside you. It took him a bit with how tight you were, but once he was fully seated he had to take a moment. Because right then, for the first time he felt overwhelmed. Sure he had partners in the past, but nothing felt like this, as if he needed more proof that you were his mate. And he knew that you probably wanted him to be gentle, but he knew that wouldn't be something he could offer, not this night at least.

"I'm not gonna be gentle Sweetheart" he felt he should warn you, felt you deserved to know before he just took you.

"I didn't expect you to be" you smiled, and he knew you knew enough of what was going on with him to know he was losing the control he loved so much, so he never broke the gaze you two held as he gripped your hips and pulled back, only to slam forward, watching as you threw your head back. He listened to your cries for him, your heartbeat singing as it sped up again. He watched as your eyes rolled back, mouth opened as you didn't even try to hide the gasps, and moans. He found his own eyes closing as he sped up, thrusts now slamming into you as the bed shook, his grunts were drowned out by your cries and that was ok, he didn't need to be loud, it was your job to tell everyone who was making you feel this good. Sir had long been forgotten and he couldn't find it in himself to care, wanting you to cry out his name until your throat went raw.

"Fuck" he panted out through gritted teeth, the feeling was picking up, the knot tightening in his stomach as he felt you grow tighter around him. Shit you were gonna make it hard on him to even fuckin last, especially when you were begging for him, begging for him not to stop, begging for him to make you cum, even begging for him to make you his, as if you weren't already. Your orgasm hit you both by surprise, you suddenly became like a vice around him and he immediately stopped, watched as you shook, you entire body trembling as you flew over the edge, he slowed his thrusts, gently rocking you through it, and also keeping his own orgasm at bay

He watched you blink before your eyes met his, looking up to see if he would say something about you cumming without permission, which, any other time he may, but right now he just knew he needed you to cum again, because you were absolutely beautiful when lost in pleasure. You watched as he unhooked your legs from him, instead lifting them as he pulled out and crawled over you, pressing his forehead to yours as he wrapped your legs around him again, his one hand coming up to hold yours, while his other game up to hold your jaw.

"You got another one for me Sweetheart?" He asked, not breaking eye contact as the hand on your jaw left for only a moment as you felt him enter you again, making you gasp.

"Yes" you whimpered, already lifting your hips to meet his.

"My little mate, always so willing" he smiled, fangs grazing your lips before he captured them again, he soon started thrusting again, and you moaned in the kiss, allowing his tongue to enter and dominate before he pulled back, fangs lightly grazing your lip and drawing blood, to which he quickly licked it up. His hips thrusting forward harshly as he tasted it, the flavor exploding on his tongue and heightening his sense to focus on the precious liquid that flowed just below the skin. He knew it would be dangerous to feed on you while you two were in the middle of this, he could lose any control he had left if he did, and he wouldn't know what to do if he killed his mate. So instead he focused on the other liquid you were producing, the liquid that was currently coating his thighs as he thrusted into you. Your moans were echoing against the walls and in his brain as he allowed himself to slip away, focusing on the feeling of your body sucking him in, gripping him tight in your soaking heat, God you were so hot against him. He knew his temperature was running hotter than normal due to the rut but yours was like fire. He was also losing himself in your scent, not just the scent of your arousal, but the scent that was simply you, a scent that he would never admit, but one that he loved smelling around the cave or against his pillow when you would take a nap in his spare room. He lost himself in how soft your skin was under his hands, how you completely gave yourself to him, willingly submitted yourself to a beast like him even though you had been told it was dangerous. How you were crying out for him, begging him, praising him, God your praises.

"Yeah? Only I can make you feel this good?" He panted against your lips, eyes still closed as he continued to lose himself.

"Fuuuuck, only you David" you told him

"Only I know your body like this" he growled, picking up speed.

"Only you" you panted.

"You're mine" another growl

"Shit..Only yours"

"Completely mine" he grunted

"Fucking…Always"

"My mate" he groaned, and you allowed your eyes to open slightly, expecting to meet gold but instead noticed that his eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed as his mouth opened slightly, hot breaths fanning your face.

"Say it" he panted, eyes not opening as he picked up his speed again, angling himself until he was hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars

"Your mate" you moaned, eyes closing again as your head fell back as far as his hand would let it, his grip leaving your jaw to grab the back of your head, forehead never leaving yours.

"My mate" he panted, breaking off into a groan.

"Fuck" he moaned against your lips, his control a hair's breath away from being gone, the faster your heartbeat raced, the less he had.

"Cum for me" he groaned, knowing he wasn't going to last much longer. The hand that had been holding yours quickly found your clit, rubbing circles that had to shooting towards your peak.

"Fuck! David!"

"That's it baby, let go" he surged forward, panting against your mouth as moans began to leave him, the sign that he was about to finish as well you realized. Your hands shot into his hair, pulling the locks until his face left yours and buried into your neck. It was something you knew you both wanted, something you had fantasized about, and something you know the rut would most likely want him to do.

"Make me yours" you panted, officially snapping the thin string of self control he had. Instantly his fangs sunk into your skin, drawing a high pitched moan from you as your legs locked around him, your body squeezing him as your second orgasm washed over you, and he was right behind. As soon as your blood entered his mouth he was gone, he knew you smelled like heaven, but you tasted like it as well, and that paired with your even stronger orgasm had him slamming forward, hips stuttering before stilling as he filled you, a deep growl leaving him and vibrating your chest as he pour himself into you, claiming you, marking you, just like his fangs did. He gave a few slow thrusts before he stilled and pulled his mouth away, his fangs leaving your skin as he licked up the blood that trailed out and sealed the wound, the only evidence being two small marks. You both stayed like that for a moment, his face still buried in your neck while your hand was tangled in his hair, the other running along the scratch marks on his back that you didn't even know you had made, he knew though, he quite enjoyed the tiny bit of pain.

"That was really dangerous" he spoke after a moment, drawing your attention to his gaze, now far less orange and far more gold, the red hue having disappeared.

"I think the danger started when I invited you in" you laughed, watching as a smile graced his lips.

"You were told not to, and here I thought you knew how to follow orders" he tisked, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Kinda hard to know which rules to follow when my master says the opposite of others" you smirked, earning a growl that vibrated your chest.

"Always my orders"

"That's what I thought" you smiled, leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss that he happily returned.

"You really like being called that" you joked, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Just means you know your role" he stated.

"Oh? So I'm nothing more than your pet?" You asked with a pout.

"You know you're not, you're my mate" he stated as if it were the simplest thing, which to him it may have been, but to you.

"What does that mean exactly?" You asked, watching as he just blinked at you.

"No like…is that what vampires call girlfriends or.." you trailed off when he started lightly running his finger over the bite marks he made.

"Why do you think I came here even though it was dangerous?" He asked.

"Honestly, I'm not actually sure" you told him truthfully.

"I actually figured you would just go pick up some random at the boardwalk" added while staring at the skin of his arm that you were currently drawing patterns on with your finger. You tried to hide the sad tone but you knew he could easily pick up on it, knew because he was soon turning your face towards him again.

"This doesn't work that way." He started, brushing your hair out of your face.

"None of us have ever been through this before, I'm the first. We just know about it from Max telling us" he explained.

"This rut, it's triggered by us finding our mate. In human terms I guess the closest thing would be a soulmate"

"So I'm…Your soulmate?" You asked, your smile growing.

"Far more than a pet now huh?" He smirked, leaning down to kiss you again. Chuckling when you pulled him closer to deepen the kiss.

"Would this be the right time to tell you that I've kinda had a crush on you for a while?" You laughed, watching as his smirk grew.

"Oh I already knew"

"Wait what?!"

"You think very loudly Sweetheart"

"Wait…How long have you been reading my thoughts?! I told you not to!"

"Long enough" he stated, while lowering his mouth to your ear.

"Now, let's see if you can last for longer than eight seconds Darlin'" he purred, a deep southern drawl ringing in your ears and you knew you were fucked…in more ways than one.

Of course I had to throw in some tidbits about my headcanon that David was originally a gunslinger from Texas lol.

Taglist

@its-monster-mash, @arenpath , @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx , @katpursley94-blog , @theamericanjewitch , @shewhomustnotbenamedsworld , @thelostone91 , @blazeflays , @ilikechocolatemilkh , @babyloutattoo89 , @bigcreatorwombatdreamer , @non-binary-disastrous-mess , @2525sc , @kitteebree , @besas-stuff , @justaspeachy , @faefairi3 , @its-freaking-bats, @santa-carla-boardwalk-1987, @urmothersmistress , @nickangel13 , @lostboysmate1987 , @simpin-for-slashers,

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