#and second I thought wow my whole fist can probably fit in his mouth

[nightowlfandom]

Keith (Voltron)- Heat Season

EDIT- I took off the “AU” part because I legit forgot what I was doing lol. No AU here

Hey hey! ANON ASKS

omg. can u do a keith x reader mating szn smut? like it’s his first heat so he locked himself away(f’s in the chat for keith) but the reader went to check on him not knowing a thing(gasp!). keith rlly do be rough at first bc he’s not thinkin straight but then becomes more ✨passionate✨ rough smut at first, then some tenderness(like my dino nuggets. lmao im 20), but then heated passionate smut. *chefs kiss* oui oui baggett

Keith from Voltron?....Cuz that’s what I’m doing for my mental health....And I’m going to hope and pray that’s what you wanted....cuz im doing it. Prepare your diddly hole....that sounded wrong. Hope you like it! 

BTW You caught me on an off day, but I didn’t wanna leave you hanging.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...

You were confused as to why everyone had insisted you go check up on Keith. Then again the last thing you said to him before he locked himself in his room for 3 days was. 

“Wow, it’s so hot in here. I need to change out of these clothes.”

It was a throwaway comment that usually earned you a laugh or two from him. Only this time, it ended with him taking one look at you, and zooming off. Three whole days since then and it felt like you were the only one who wasn’t aware of what was going through his head.

So here you were, standing outside his door. You hesitated for a while, frozen in place.

“He’s your friend.” you declared. “You can do this!” you nodded with determination. You slowly raised your hand and knocked. 

“Fuck!” you heard on the other side. “W-Who’s there!”

“It’s me?” you answered, slowly becoming unsure. “Is it a bad time?”

“Y/N!” he grunted. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check on you! P-please let me in.” you sighed. 

“Y/N! It isn’t safe for you to be here!” he sounded in pain.

“Keith! It’s either you let me in or I melt the door down!” you warned. "I have a lighter on me, don’t test whether or not I’m serious.”

Suddenly the door slid open. Without another thought you walked in. His room looked normal. “Keith?”

Just as you got in, the door slammed shut, making you jump. A shirtless Keith stumbled out of the bathroom. His face was completely red and he was sweating. Without a pause, you rushed over to him.

“Y/N!” Keith shuddered. “P-please don’t-”

“Keith!” you cut him off. “You’re burning up!” you put a hand on his forehead. For some reason, he leaned into your touch. He shuddered, his eyes glazing over slowly. This was a side of his you’ve never seen before.

It wasn’t long bore you managed to connect the dots. You couldn’t stop the blush from rising onto your face. “Oh.” was all you could say.

“Y/N...” he dropped to his knees. “I’m so sorry.” he whimpered. “It’s...t-too much.” he moaned. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

He rested his head against your stomach. “I want you so bad.” he cried. Like literally cried. “I c-can’t control it.” he whimpered.

“Keith? Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you, I could’ve-.”

“The only reason I didn’t tell you was because in order to calm it down...I’d have to...have my way with the object of my aggression.” you could tell he was very ashamed. It then dawned on you what he meant when he said he wanted you.

“And...that’s me?” you clarified, voice shaking.

He buried his face into your stomach, tightening his grip around you. “Yes...”

“...Then do it.” you found yourself saying. This caused him to look up in surprise.

“You just made a big mistake, Y/N.” he glowered. A sadistic smile arose on his face. “You just opened yourself up to me.” he scrambled to his feet. Before you knew it, you felt your back hit the door. “Which means I can do whatever I want to you now.”

Keith grabbed a handful of your hair in his fist and bought your lips to his. You winced in pain, feeling him tighten his grip, as if he was scared to let you go. He must have detected this because he moved his hand to the side of your neck. 

Your body was flush against the wall and he was pressed against you, covering your body like a blanket. He yanked himself away from you and hoisted you up. 

Keith carried you to his bed and practically threw you on the plush surface. In that instant, the tables were flipped. Instead of looking up at you through hooded eyes with a shameful gaze, it was you who was now looking up at him.  Keith stared down at you with a glare. You probably looked ridiculous, but you didn’t care. 

“How do you want me?” you found yourself asking. 

“Fuck.” he whimpered. Just hearing you say that sent him crazy. He could smell sex coming off you, and he wanted to get his hands on you. His mouth, his dick, whatever he could touch you with. He could barely gather his thoughts. Every corner of his mind was occupied by visions of you, imagines, of you, thoughts of you. “Clothes...off...now.”

He didn’t wait for you, instead he ripped your shirt down the back, tearing it to shreds. He gently pushed on your chest, sending you down. Your back in the bed and you didn’t dare try and sit up.

“Is this a good time to mention I went commando today?” you asked aloud. Keith stopped everything he was doing and looked at you. He was expressionless. He didn’t say a word.

“...You’re not wearing any underwear?” he glowered.

“No?” you trailed off. “I didn’t do my laundry.” you admitted. 

The remained of your shirt fell in a pool around you. You and Keith had a stare-down, that glossy look returning to his eyes. He hooked his fingers around the hem of your pants and yanked them down. As expected, you were completely exposed to him. No undergarment in sight. Your smell filled his nostrils.

He instantly began fumbling with his pants, unable to control himself anymore. He could see that you were already excited down there and he was growing inpatient. 

He grabbed hold of your thighs and thrust himself into your tightness, earning a surprised moan from you. You felt better than he thought you would. You fit him perfectly, like a sheath built for a special type of sword. 

“Fu-...Ungh...-” He could barely make words as he pumped into your wetness. “Y/N.” he grunted. “You’re mine.” he growled. “Mine. If anyone else touches you after today, they’ll have me to answer to.” he croaked.

You were at a point where you couldn’t make any words, your body had reacted to him in a way where you felt like a slave to his touch. Was is pheromones? It was probably pheromones...you’d have to ask later.

“I wanna- I wanna kiss you.” Keith fought to speak as he slammed his hands on either side of your head. As promised, he lazily crashed his mouth over yours. His kiss was sloppy and lazily, his lips leaving a thin line of drool as he kissed down your neck. 

He rolled his hips against yours, groaning at each thrust. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to last long. That didn’t stop him from speeding up. 

“Y/N.” he moaned again. With each sloppy thrust, his name left your lips, sounding more and more guttural before he spilled into you. He yanked his length out of your hole, splattering the entire front of your body in his cum. 

You looked like a pretty sight. You were officially marked by him. When you looked up, that hungry gaze was still strewn across his face. You noticed his eyes were still focused on your heat. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. 

He met your eyes for a split second before giving you a lewd smirk. He winked at you before scooting back to lay on his stomach. 

“K-keith. We just fin-ISHED.” you tried to say. Keith had attached his mouth to your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“I know.” he stopped to speak for a bit. “I didn’t feel you cum for me though.”

“You can tell?!” you look down surprised. No, you didn’t fake it...but you didn’t think he would go this mile. 

“Of course I can fucking tell...you’re mine remember?” he giggled before lashing his mouth against you again. You could feel tears of pleasure welling up at the corners of your eyes. Your fists clenched the sheets under you.  It was like he had full control of you. You felt his fingers pump into you again, fucking his cum back into you. (I’m such a thot omg)

Your orgasm came like an avalanche. A mixture of loud cries and moans ripped through the air. Surely anyone who had been around could hear.

You were just worried about what would happen tomorrow.

...

“NOT A WORD!” you threateningly held up a butter knife to Lance not even three hours later.

“Just saying...I was on the other side of the-”

“SHUT UP!” you cut him off. 

“...Was he good though?”

“I said shut up!” you groaned, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.

“I’m just saying...those hickeys aren’t gonna heal for a while.” he shrugged, laughing out loud as he walked away.

“Fuck me!” you seethed, trailing your fingers over your aching skin.

“What was that?” Keith seemingly appeared out of nowhere. You dropped the butter knife, feeling his broad chest up against your back. “Did you say to-”

“In the kitchen though?!” you squeaked. “Bad dog! Very bad!” you whimpered, melting into his touch anyways.

“Don’t worry, it only lasts a week.” he giggled in your ear.

A week...lord help you.

“Maybe longer if I like you enough.”

....Fuck

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 4342 ⚬ warnings: brief drug mention ⚬ genres: mainly just fluff! college/uni!au

✧✎ synopsis: your longtime campus crush just received an interesting dare: to ask you out on a date. while the circumstances are questionable, you aren’t going to decline. maybe this is your ticket to romance. 

✧✎ a/n: if this title or plot sounds familiar, then that’s bc i finally accomplished a goal of mine: to rewrite i dare you. this was a fic i originally wrote in 2016!! i did change some aspects, so not everything is identical. PLS ENJOY ;w;

The bells to the café door jingled.

Normally, you wouldn’t be so attentive about the customers filtering in and out, but at that moment, your gaze shot over the lid of your laptop like a harpoon. It was roughly the right time, the right day. According to your judgement, this was when they usually came for their morning coffees. Jeonghan, Joshua, and Seungcheol: a very popular trio amongst the likings of your campus.  

Jeonghan was a nursing student. Clean-cut, charming to a degree of annoyance, and always ordered a boring black coffee. The second boy, Joshua, was cute enough to stop you in your tracks and force a double-take. However, he liked mathematics, numbers, weird formulas which looked more torture than learning. He preferred lattes with foam. And then there was Seungcheol. You wouldn’t call him your true love, because you didn’t know him all that well, and as far as he was concerned you were the lunatic who accidentally set pages of Joshua’s chemistry homework on fire. But that was a story for another day (you haven’t been near that Yankee candle since).

Nonetheless, you were crushing on him. Badly. To the point where you arrived at the café early, pretending to type a document on your laptop, just so you could flit your eyes every so often at his table while he slurped his chocolate mocha. You even had their scheduling memorized. It was a bit weird, and you would be the first to admit such a thing, but nothing was going to thwart you from daydreaming about those eyes of his. Or that dazzling smile. His short bursts of laughter which were usually tweezed out at Jeonghan pulling some stupid prank on Joshua. Everything about you adored him.

The trio gathered at their usual table, sat obliquely to your nook by the window. You had opened an older document that was already finished, pretended to tap against the keys while they ate a small breakfast before class. Something was different. They were giggling more than usual. And you couldn’t help but blatantly stare with concern when Joshua tore open a salt packet and poured it straight on his tongue. Jeonghan was grinning so widely that you were positive his face must be aching, and Seungcheol cackled into his fist while Joshua immediately grabbed for his latte.

A game. They were playing some sort of game.

Once Joshua had recovered, you noted that he began surveying the café, running his narrowed gaze to each table.

The second he found you huddled in the corner, attempting to shrink behind your laptop and pretend your presence was nothing but invisible, Joshua leaned into Seungcheol’s side to make a very smiley whisper. Pretend I’m working, pretend I’m working on something so damn important I can’t look up for even a second, you reiterated to yourself quietly, ignoring the panic ballooning inside you. A minute later, someone had just pulled out the chair across from you. They sat down with a slight groan, clasping their hands together.

Of course, it was Seungcheol.

“Hey.” He said, watching as you tentatively lowered the lid of your laptop, probably wondering why the hell you looked so stunned.

“What are you, um, doing?” You asked.

Seungcheol could not be sitting across from you just because he wanted to. It was impossible. And as much as that stung to admit, you knew the truth was simply that. He was definitely put up to this.

“We know each other pretty well, correct?” The boy completely ignored your question. “I know that you set Josh’s chem notes on fire. We take toxicology together. Need I say more?”

“Wow,” you replied, twiddling your fingers anxiously under the table, “that’s a whole two things. I can’t even count that high.”

“We can’t all be mathematicians,” Seungcheol moved the conversation along while he angled a white jar of sugar, “and I guess I should tell you, I’m in a predicament, which involves you.”

Your hands squeezed together so firmly that they nearly moulded into permanent fists. Seungcheol was staring at you now rather than flickering his gaze between the objects on the table, with those eyes as dark as sapphire. You were burning up, sweltering, felt like you needed to burst from your clothes and bathe in ice.

“A predicament?”

Seungcheol folded his muscular arms on the table and nodded. “Yeah, I got a dare from Josh. To ask you out. The thing is, I’m not supposed to tell you. But you seem like a nice girl.”

You swallowed very tautly and pushed down the lid of your laptop a little more. Over Seungcheol’s shoulder, you spotted both Joshua and Jeonghan observing, chuckling amongst themselves.

“Another thing,” Seungcheol added, raking a hand through his black locks, “I don’t want to lose to tweedle-dumb and tweedle-idiot over there – you can decide who’s who – so you should accept.”

Straightening your posture against the chair, you decided to spell out the situation, more for your sake than Seungcheol’s. “Let me get this straight. You got dared to ask me out. You have nothing better to do tomorrow night, so you accepted it. And I don’t have a choice.”

“Your wording is a bit disparaging. But essentially, yeah.” He leaned back with a gorgeous smile, turning up his palm. “So, down?”

At that moment, you could not believe the universe had just ladled this ridiculous possibility into your lap. A date with your biggest crush on campus. A date that so many people would be wrangling your neck to steal from you – even if it was based on an innocuous little game which Seungcheol refused to submit because he was too competitive at heart. It might not have been your most prideful choice in life, but you accepted. Any chance to spend the night with him would not be wasted as long as the offer stood.

However, you had one condition.

“I’ll do it,” you grinned, watching the boy’s expression perk like a child who just got handed a cookie, “on the account of another dare. Which you’ll find out on our fake date.”

“Fine.” Seungcheol shrugged, sliding his phone across the table so that you could enter your number. He stood up afterward, on the verge of returning to his friends when he suddenly paused.

“See you tomorrow night, sweetheart.”

There was such a rush of butterflies in your stomach, you were surprised one hadn’t flown out your mouth.

You didn’t know why you cared so much about a date that was most likely intended to humiliate you. Was Joshua still not over those chemistry sheets? Even after you spent a good two hours in the library attempting to rewrite them with your nicest, smoothest gel pel? Thoughts of what to wear, your style of makeup, and which perfume you should choose amongst the few on your dresser were awfully overwhelming. In fact, you were almost late to the park, the area Seungcheol had picked as a rendezvous point.

He rose from the bench in front of the duck pond once you arrived, checking the time on his wrist while making a tsking sound.

“Four and a half minutes late,” Seungcheol said, shaking his head, “you’re not making a good first impression, my lady.”

Obviously, you weren’t going to admit how you were stressing about a technically-fake date. In the end, you threw on a simple outfit and applied some lipstick on your way out the door, shoving the tube into a small purse hung over your shoulder. It’s not like he was treating you to a five-star restaurant by romantic candlelight. But if he ever did, you had the perfect outfit planned.

“Well, I’m here now. And with your dare.” You grinned.

Seungcheol stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Let’s hear it.”

“I dare you to buy me a week of coffee.”

At first, Seungcheol didn’t utter a thing. But then he erupted into a fit of laughter until his cheeks turned rosy like peaches.

“That’s not how this works,” he half-sighed, half-chuckled while removing a tear from his eye, “I’m rejecting it.”

“You can’t reject it! You definitely owe me. I didn’t let you lose to tweedle-dumb or tweedle-idiot. Plus, it’s low to ask someone out on a dare. I didn’t even have to show up.”  Ensuring your tone was confident, you folded your arms over your chest, raised your brow at the boy, and observed him as he tapped his foot in contemplation.

“Can I have time to consider?” Seungcheol asked.

While it was tough to capitulate so easily and let him have his way, you didn’t want to spend the entirety of your night standing next to a slimy pond, debating the regulations. So you bit the bullet. Besides, Seungcheol announced that there was a party he needed to stop by, that there was a particular someone to which he owned money. It was a short walk to this brick house that reverberated with music, cars stalled up and down the street while a flood of strobing colours illuminated in the windows. Seungcheol knocked on the door quite loudly, and then he reached for your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours. You shot him a puzzled glance just as the door swung open, the stench of marijuana mingling with the cool, night air.  

“Well, well, well,” a fox-eyed boy murmured after taking a long puff from his blunt, “Choi Seungcheol. It’s about damn time.”

“I was in the neighbourhood. Heard you and Soonyoung were lighting this place up. What a good turnout, huh?”

“Mmhm,” the other boy hummed unenthusiastically, leaning his wide shoulder against the doorframe, “you got the money or no?”

Seungcheol laughed. “C’mon, Wonwoo. We don’t even get to go inside? Hang out for a bit? Have a drink? You’re a shitty host.”

Wonwoo slid a finger under his chin, rubbing in contemplation. It was starting to get colder out, for you could hear the tree leaves rustling together as a wind whisked through the dark. You squished yourself a bit closer into Seungcheol’s side, and to your surprise, he let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Finally, Wonwoo concurred, sticking the rolled paper back between his lips while stepping aside with an inviting gesture.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” the boy muttered, “but I’ll be coming to find you in about ten minutes. And I wanna see cash.”

“What’s his problem?” You whispered by Seungcheol’s ear as he guided you around an illy lit corner, into the kitchen.

His warm breath feathered your ear as he said, “I lost a couple bets to him and was slow getting the money back.” Seungcheol then grabbed two solo cups organized in a stack on the counter, filling each with a red, fruit-mixed alcohol which sat in two glass bowls.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”

You accepted the cup and took a sip. “Oh, in case you needed to beat him up? I don’t know,” you lilted,  “he looks pretty sturdy.”

“Are you kidding?” Seungcheol gawked.

He slapped his drink down on the counter and threw his jacket over the back of a chair. With a perplexed, is this man crazy expression, you watched him roll up his sleeve and flex his bicep.

“Go ahead,” the boy grinned, “you’ll see.”

You made sure to roll your eyes and sigh incredibly loud in order to really establish your indifference. Meanwhile, your inner-self was fizzling like a carbonated soda. Grabbing onto Seungcheol’s muscle, you pressed down, forcing back a surprised chuckle at the fact his arm was hard as a rock. In that moment your meter of attraction toward the boy was ticking so absurdly you thought it could break.

“Okay, I’ll give it to you, Seungcheol. You’re strong.”

He tugged his sleeve back down and slid into the jacket again, a very brash smirk beaming on his face. You couldn’t decipher if he’d actually been attempting to impress you or if that was just a display of his cockiness. And yet, you didn’t really care which category it fell into, because you were still blissfully afloat thinking about Seungcheol’s arms. You lifted your drink and took another sip, swishing the sweet but tangy flavour between your cheeks. At that moment, a man you didn’t recognize attempted to scoot behind you – except there was definitely enough room for him to get by without planting his hands on your hips and squeezing them.

“Hey! What the hell?” You squeaked, quickly turning around on your heel to see the crookedly amused look he stared at you with.

“What?” He somehow had the audacity to respond.

But you weren’t going to accept his disgraceful maneuvers, and neither was Seungcheol. He abandoned his cup on the counter and pushed up his sleeves.

“Did you just put your hands on her?” Came his demand. It didn’t sound like the normal, relaxed Seungcheol who liked his jokes, but someone with an unnerving amount of authority and fearlessness.

“I-I was trying to get by.” The man stammered, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of confrontation. He was already stepping backward as Seungcheol approached him.

“Don’t touch other people like that,” Seungcheol admonished him in a deep, staid voice, then pointed toward the threshold of the kitchen, “just get out, man. Seriously. Don’t even go near her.” And like a saddened puppy who received a scolding from its owners to lay down in the pen, the man slinked away without another word.

You were unsure of what to say to Seungcheol for diminishing the situation. Folding your arms tightly, you nodded at him.

“Thanks.”

Wonwoo came wandering into the kitchen. His eyes brightened the moment he saw Seungcheol, and he rubbed his fingers together to wordlessly convey that he wanted his money now.

“It’s alright,” Seungcheol gave you a soft smile while he revealed a large wad of cash from his pocket, “he was a weirdo.”

“Yeah.” You laughed as Seungcheol handed the sum to his friend, who fleshed out the paper notes to count the correct amount.

It took you a moment to realize that Seungcheol’s arm had wrapped back around your shoulders, this time a bit more securely.  When you leaned into him, it wasn’t because you felt a draft or a chill, but because he was comfortable. He felt and smelled like safety.

Later that night, you returned to the park, throwing stones into the duck pond while the moon was hidden behind a thin curtain of clouds. Seungcheol claimed that he could throw his stones farther than yours, which prompted your short-lived competition. It had ended so abruptly because you ran out of stones to throw. At one point you tried tossing sticks, but they didn’t travel as far, and they definitely didn’t break the surface of the water with a satisfying plop.

“Hey,” Seungcheol said, nudging your elbow excitedly, “I dare you to get in the pond.”

“No way!” You cackled. “It’s freezing. And that pond is nasty.”

“Just dip your toe in or something.”

“You dip your toe in!”

“I don’t wanna take off my socks.”

You huffed, a plume of your breath escaping into the crisp air.

“Well, we’re at a crossroads then, aren’t we?”

Rather than continue bickering about the dare, you were starting to feel these annoying hunger pangs. You didn’t eat dinner because of how nervous you were toward this fake date (which was rapidly morphing into a very real date) with Seungcheol. The most you ate today had been some toast and pieces of apple your roommate cut the night before. Directly on cue, your stomach gurgled, and your face swelled hot with embarrassment. Seungcheol grinned.

“Hungry?”

“Starving, more like.” You corrected him.

He pulled out the white fabric liners of his pockets, revealing they were completely empty. “All my cash went to Wonwoo.”

You flashed a playful smile while repeating his statement from earlier. “Oh, wow. Not being able to cover the meal on a first date? You’re not making a good impression, sweetheart.”

In an instant, Seungcheol had snatched your hand, interlocking your fingers together warmly. He began tugging you out of the park and onto a familiar street, where there was a twenty-four-hour diner that the students absolutely loved. Admittedly, you had been there a few times. Once as a giggly drunk who just wanted a waffle plate at three in the morning, and also as a struggling student who was desperate for a cup of coffee in order to power through a procrastinated essay. Now, it seemed you were returning for a date.

“I’ll pay you back, promise.” Seungcheol said as the server placed a nacho platter onto the table. “It’s my new priority.”

The diner was quiet and mostly empty apart from a group of three seated at another table. You didn’t realize just how hungry you were until that first taste of melted cheese, salsa, and seared chicken hit your mouth. Seungcheol didn’t like black olives, so he kept picking them off. You were eating too ravenously to inspect your food.

“You’re taking the olives off?” You smirked. “Baby.”

Seungcheol scoffed. “I am not a baby.” He looked up at you as he shoved another delicious chip in his mouth. “And I know it gives you some sick, twisted pleasure to say that. You should be ashamed.”

Nearly choking on the water you just sipped, you dropped the  cup back on the table to cough a few times.

“You know what’s sick? The fact I’m paying.”

The boy reached for his glass of coca cola. “Yeah, but technically this isn’t a real date. So, doesn’t count.”

“Really?” Raising a questioned eyebrow, you watched Seungcheol take a long gulp from his drink. “Are you willing to say that with your entire chest? That this isn’t a real date?”

And in that moment, Seungcheol genuinely seemed to have met a stupor. In fact, there was a red tint dusting the crest of each his cheeks. He leaned back in the booth, folded his arms over his chest, and pursed his lips. You waited patiently for his response, lifting a nacho to your mouth while threads of cheese dangled in the air.

A smile broke through his stiff, musing expression.

“Okay,” he nodded his head, “maybe this is a real date,” (your heart impossibly fluttered), “you could be right about that.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You answered.

In truth, you couldn’t have been more delighted to hear Seungcheol agree, because if he hadn’t, you would have dined and dashed, fled straight out the restaurant in a haze of shame and embarrassment. In the span of just a few hours, your attraction toward this boy had impressively expanded like a sponge soaking up water. Before, you weren’t positive that he could be your true love. It was mostly a running joke between you and… well, yourself. However, this one night was proving that perhaps your joke could have some actual weight to it. And as Seungcheol continued to make you laugh, choke on your food, stare at him in complete adoration like he was a crowned jewel, you completely lost track of time.

It wasn’t until you burst into another frenzy of laughter at his story and spilt water all down your shirt that you finally checked your phone. Almost one in the morning. The server whisked your cutlery and plates away with a tired expression. You tipped generously, feeling rather guilty for creating such a racket at this hour.

“Do you want my jacket?” Seungcheol asked as you prepared to leave. There was a huge water stain soaking through your shirt.

“A-Are you sure?” You asked him, pulling a few strands of hair from your face. He nodded, already wrestling the jacket off.

“Go change, sweetheart,” Seungcheol told you so casually that you couldn’t hide this blatant look of surprise, “I’ll wait outside.”

Entering a washroom stall, you peeled the damp shirt over your head and folded it to pack nicely within your purse. You then slipped into Seungcheol’s jacket, which had this wonderful, warm fleece patched to the inside. It was soft against your bare skin, and it smelled like a fragrant hint of his cologne. After spending an extra moment freshening up at the sink, you wandered back into the cool night, where Seungcheol was leaning against a street pole. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks at the late hour, or if he’d actually given you a very smug, very relishing once-over.

Considering you had class early the next day, you asked Seungcheol if he’d be willing to walk you home. He obliged, and you paced together in comfortable silence until reaching the bridge. It arched over a swirling, gushing river which ran through the city, the current black as kohl and reflecting the lights of the nearby architecture. In the daytime this bridge wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was a beautiful vantage point during the night; a place to watch the city sparkle and flash like the cosmos.

“Hey,” Seungcheol whispered, grabbing your hand, “I have another dare for you, since you chickened out on the pond.”

You looked at the mischief compiling in his gaze. “What?”

“Climb up there.”

Seungcheol pointed toward a thick, metal beam that slanted upward, like a ramp. It flattened out at the top, and sometimes when you walked by during the day, there would be a few students sitting down after class, eating sandwiches or cracking open sodas. A placement of bars was set behind, only wide enough to stick your leg through. You glanced back at Seungcheol and nodded.

“Okay, fine.”

And so you began to climb up the slanted beam, feeling the breeze nip at your cheeks, your hair, like the smallest of kisses. At the flattened section, you turned around and looked down at Seungcheol, feeling like the empress of a powerful kingdom. His face ignited in the moonlight. He was smiling very wide as you stuck out your tongue.

“Easy. I dare you to climb up here.”

Seungcheol shook his head. “I, uh, can’t.”

“Why not?” You laughed, folding your arms. “Scared?”

“No, I just—I twisted my ankle, so I can’t.”

“When was that?”

“You weren’t looking.”

Rolling your eyes, you decided to tease him. Taking the zipper dangling from his jacket, you began to pull it down slowly, revealing a hidden amount of skin which turned the boy’s face an adorable pink.

“If you come up here, I’ll take the jacket all the way off.” You sang in a promiscuous tone, lifting up the strap of your bra and snapping it. Seungcheol grinned, cupping a hand over his gaze.

“No way. I’m not falling into a trap like that.”

“Fine,” you huffed, lowering to your butt and carefully scooting your way down the metallic beam, “you missed out.”

Seungcheol merely held his tongue; however, he did take the zipper on his jacket and pull it back up, right to your chin, hiding the expanse of flesh from the bright moonlight. You weren’t sure what courageous energy had just taken over your body. In fact, you’d probably regret such a thing by the time your alarm clock erupted tomorrow morning, pulling you from the pit of your sleep.

“I don’t want you getting cold.” He said. “And I can’t believe you nearly gave me a strip tease from the support beam of a bridge. That’s a first.”

“I’m just making sure you don’t forget this date.” You chuckled, half in nonsense, half in truth.

As he promised, Seungcheol walked you back to the house and made sure the door unlocked using the spare key under the letter box. Thankfully, your roommate left the lights of the front porch on, the bulbs now swathed in grey moths. It was a strange night. A night that wouldn’t have happened if not for the antics of Seungcheol and his two equally competitive friends. Maybe there was a positive side to burning Joshua’s chemistry notes, though you weren’t sure he’d be thrilled to hear you admit that. A game of I Dare You, turned into a fake date, turned into a real date, turned into a sweet affection.

You yawned, feeling the faint glisten of tears stretch in your eyes. “I had fun. And I guess I’ll see you tomorrow in toxicology.”

“With my jacket.” He reminded you.

“Yes, of course. With your jacket.”

And while you expected Seungcheol to simply bid his goodnight and perhaps take a late bus home, firing question after question of why he decided to accept such a stupid dare as he stared out the window, you were surprised when he reached for your hand.

“By the way,” he said, “I accept.”

You crinkled your nose. “Accept what?”

“The dare. I’ll buy you coffee every morning this week.”

“Oh!” There was a small flare crackling to life in your eyes as you recalled the original dare of the night. “That’s right. I forgot.”

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Seungcheol agreed. He then squeezed your hand. “On the account of one very simple condition.”

“I don’t think you can do that. Doesn’t seem rule-abiding.”

The boy discarded your comment. Instead, his grasp became tighter around your hand. He pulled you swiftly into his chest and stared straight into your helpless, panicking eyes as though he were going to confess something profound and utterly dire.

He smirked. “I want you to kiss me each time.”

Seungcheol lifted his brow in anticipation of your response, which was an undoubted agreement. Probably the fastest, easiest agreement you had ever made in your life. He moved in close to your ear, whispering something about how you should meet at the café tomorrow morning and walk to the lecture hall together, though you were ultimately buzzing and experiencing such a bold heartbeat that you missed most of the details. When he pulled away, you smiled.

“That sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Stepping off the porch, he turned back with a wave.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

✧✎ a/n: the reason i wanted to rewrite this fic was bc i still rly enjoy the concept. however, i cannot STAND my old style of writing, thus i decided to just rewrite the fic and appease the nagging in my head lol. this is how i would have written this fic today if i hadn’t already done so four years ago. i’m also questioning the possibility of rewriting love café for jeonghan (pls don’t go reading it if u haven’t already)  but that would take much longer ,,,, JUST AN IDEA THOUGH. i hope you enjoyed!!

[mypoisonedvine]

Any thoughts on if Lee would would ever buy any sort of toys and use them on the reader, or would he simply just use his handcuffs or belt to tie her up? (Not sure what they would have had back then tbh)

Also, would Lee ever let the reader cuff him to the bed and have her wicked way with him, like masterbate in front of him, or edge him, then ride him, all while he tells the reader how he is going to get her back for this torture?

first of all, I'm thinking he wouldn't use more than handcuffs and belts but don't worry, he gets plenty done with just those.

second of all, reader using handcuffs on lee??? oh hell yes.  very nsfw below the cut c:

"I always knew you were secretly a freak," Lee smirked as he watched you click the second pair of handcuffs shut around his wrists, "but this surprises even me."

You smiled and leaned back to admire your work: your husband, naked as the day he was born with his arms outstretched and cuffed to each of the bedposts. He was already half hard from the anticipation of it all, but you were only just getting started.

"You're gonna be good, right, daddy?" you purred.

"As best I can," he chuckled.

Gingerly, your fingers moved up his thigh towards where his cock was swelling and making your mouth water. You rarely got to appreciate his body like this, since that cock didn't tend to spend much time on display before it was being shoved into your mouth or your pussy. And you loved that too, but right now you were enjoying the way he shivered when you wrapped your hand around his shaft.

"Princess," he moaned, "I know you can stroke it better than that."

"I'll get to it when I'm ready, just be patient daddy," you encouraged softly. Taking it nice and slow, you moved your hand up and down his length, teasing the ridge under his head and watching in awe as precum began to gather at the tip. You wanted to taste it, but instead you smeared it with your hand to make your movements even smoother.

"Fuck," he sighed, "put it in your mouth."

"You didn't ask nicely," you grinned. "You always have to ask nicely."

"Put it in your mouth, please," he rolled his eyes.

"Hmm... no," you smiled.

"I know you want to," he tried to bargain, and he wasn't wrong.

"Oh, I do," you admitted, "I'm so turned on just from touching you, daddy. Wanna see?"

Letting go of him to free both hands, you unbuttoned your dress and stripped for him, laying back and spreading your legs to show how wet you'd become already. Your head fell back as you swirled your fingers over your swollen clit, smiling as you saw the rage on his face.

"You know you aren't allowed to do that," he hissed. "Only I get to touch you like that."

"Aw, that's too bad," you faked a pout, "since you have no way to stop me."

His fists tightened and strained against the steel cuffs, and you knew he was wishing he could break free from them and teach you a lesson.

"Daddy, it feels so good," you moaned, putting on a show for him as your hips gyrated against your hand, "almost better than when you do it."

"Bullshit," he frowned.

"Hmm, I thought you were gonna be good. How disappointing. I was almost going to put your cock in my mouth, but if you're gonna have that attitude..."

"No, baby, wait," he pleaded, "please, I need ya so bad."

"If I suck you, you'll be a good boy?"

He winced but nodded.

"No, daddy, I need you to say it."

His jaw tightened as he looked away, the most adorable pink flush starting to tinge his cheeks. "I... I'll be a good boy. Please..."

You beamed as you got down on your hands and knees, gripping his cock and guiding it towards your mouth. You started delicately, just gentle kitten licks to the tip as you savored the taste of him. His cock was flexing in your hand already, and you were sure he was desperate for more. Taking pity on him, you wrapped your lips around the tip and suckled on it.

"Fuck, princess," he groaned.

"Feels good?" you asked as you pulled off.

"Yes, please don't stop," he whimpered.

Seeing him reduced to begging and whining already was... intoxicating. Instantly you were drunk with power and wanted to push him even further. You sucked him in earnest, stroking what you couldn't reach and secretly missing the way he would normally grab your hair and force you to take it deeper.

Distracted by the warm tingling between your legs, you stopped and popped up with a smile.

"Want it inside me, daddy," you admitted shyly.

"Then hop on, pretty girl," he smiled back.

“...but I was having so much fun touching myself earlier...” you grinned.  

His face dropped.  “No, no, you wouldn’t dare--”

“So I think I wanna do some more of that first.”

His head fell back in frustration as he pulled at the cuffs again, groaning through his teeth.  “I swear you’re done for as soon as I’m outta these,” he promised darkly.

“Well, that’s a later problem,” you dismissed, repositioning so he was in full view of you dipping two fingers inside yourself.  “Fuck, daddy, I’m so wet... and it feels so warm in here,” you giggled.  

“Please, princess, I’m dyin’ over here,” he begged, “just let me get inside ya, please-- I’ll be your good boy, promise.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, daddy, you’ll get your turn.”  

Speeding up, you were on a fast track to the finish line as you managed to rub your clit at the same time your fingers reached your g-spot.  Of course, it was nothing compared to the way it felt when he touched you, but you’d never tell him that.

Your exaggerated moans filled the room along with his frustrated pants, his eyes raking over you while you pleasured yourself.

“Please, baby,” he repeated, chanting it in a hoarse whisper.

“Just be patient, daddy,” you sighed, “just lay there and think about how good it would feel to be inside me right now.  I can feel it on my fingers when I’m about to come... think about how that would feel on your cock right now, daddy.”

“God, you’re really in for it now,” he growled, “you’re being such a bad girl.”

“I would’ve been a lot worse a lot sooner if I knew how fun it was gonna be,” you laughed.  “Fuck, I’m close already.  Wanna watch me come, daddy?”

“No,” he groaned, “I wanna make you come.”

“Can’t always get what you want,” you winked before throwing your head back as your legs began to quiver and shake.  “Oh god, daddy, I’m coming!”

As pleasure began to rock through your body and make wetness gush out of your opening, he moaned as if he could actually feel it-- even if he couldn’t feel it as much as he wanted to.  You watched his cock bounce and strain against nothing, leaking its own wetness as his precum dripped down in a beautiful stripe along his length.  

“Daddy, yes!” you squealed as you hit the peak of it, knowing he could probably see how hard your muscles were flexing inside and hoping he was dreaming about how it would feel around him.

“Baby,” he sobbed, “please...”

“It’s okay, daddy,” you soothed as you pulled your fingers out of yourself slowly.  “It won’t be much longer now.  Wanna taste?”

You pressed your fingers to his lips before he could answer, watching him swirl his tongue around them and hum at the flavor of your body.

“I’m gonna ride you now, okay?”

“Please,” he sighed, nodding feverishly.

You grinned and swung a leg over as you straddled him, guiding his cock between your lips and ever-so-slowly sinking down.  You wanted desperately to moan at the feeling of him stretching you wide, but more than that you wanted to hear the beautiful sounds he was making.

As your hips connected with his, you could tell he was close already by the way his brow was furrowed tightly and his cock was flexing within you.

“Oh no, daddy, you can’t come yet,” you tutted disapprovingly.  “I won’t move until I know you can take it.”

“Fuck!” he yelled.  “Fuck, please, please move.”

“But you’ll come,” you frowned, “and I don’t want you to do that yet.”

“I’ll hold it, promise,” he bargained, “just please move, need to feel you, please princess.”

Nodding, you slowly bounced on top of him and watched his face fall into a slack moan.  “Does that feel good, daddy?”

“Oh god, you have no idea,” he sighed.

You moved faster, hoping to challenge his promise and smiling as you watched him bite down on his lip.  “Ah ah ah,” you giggled, “you’d better not come yet.”

“Can’t help it,” he warned. “Fuck, I’m ‘bout to fill you up.”

“Oh no, daddy,” you shook your head, “that’s not what’s gonna happen at all.”

“Fuck, baby, pleasepleaseplease-- don’t get off, please, need to come inside you.”

You shook your head and cackled happily as he whined, sitting up and letting his cock fall out of you.  You wanted more than anything to watch him come from nothing at all, see what it looked like when he hit the height of his pleasure and couldn’t come back down.  Amazingly, he started to shoot his load up onto himself, and you bit your lip as you watched his come leak and drip down over his cock.  It was even better than you’d imagined, and the weak, broken moans he made while he did it were the icing on top of it all.

Once he finally stopped and began to catch his breath, you smiled as you admired his exhausted expression.

“Wow, daddy, that was incredible,” you praised.  “You really are my good boy.  And look at this lovely mess you made.”

His eyes fluttered open, and you looked right in them as you leaned down and began to lick up the come splattered on his chest, and his stomach, and his thighs...

“God, princess,” he sighed.  You saved the best for last, swallowing what you’d gathered before licking up the come that coated his softening cock-- and laughing happily when he whined and bucked under your movements on his overstimulated body.  

“You’re so sensitive, daddy,” you teased.  “Be still while I clean you up...”

It was soft enough now that you could fit the whole thing in your mouth, sucking off every last drop as he bit back sobs above you.  When you were done, you popped up with a smile, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Can I let you out of the cuffs now, or are you gonna punish me like you said?” you asked nervously.

“I’m too tired to do anything to you except maybe fall asleep on ya,” he laughed weakly.  You reached to the bedside table to acquire the key, opening the cuffs one at a time-- and instantly being wrapped in his arms tightly and thrown onto your back.

"Can't believe you fell for that," he smirked before descending upon you.

[stubbedbakutoes]

Promise Ring

Bakugou accidentally slips up amidst an argument with (y/n). The question now is, does he feel guilty? at all?

pairing: asshole!bakugou x fem reader

word count: 2.1k

genre: angst (i advise grabbing some tissues before proceeding with caution mwahaha)

part 2

masterlist

Whilst his hands held up the ring in the glistening light of the gradually rising sun, her movements halted, thankful she was mere seconds away from having the hot liquid in her mouth because she would more than likely be spluttering and coughing at the shock of what he had just said. Bakugou darted his eyes away from hers, because he’s embarrassed.

But then he’s just looking back at her again. Because he couldn’t not look at her. He licked his suddenly dry as hell lips, shrugging a shoulder.

“Fell for you hard and I don’t want this to just be some fling that we’ll get over in a few weeks.” The blush was rising on his cheeks and she found this self-conscious side of him adorable.

“Kacchan!” She kicked his shin under the table. “You’re asking me to marry you?” She asked slowly. 

“No!” He scoffed playfully, which soon turned into a laugh when she squealed out something along the lines of ‘Don’t look so disgusted! how was I supposed to react to that, huh?’  “I mean, you’ve had my dick in your mouth, I'd say we’re pretty committed at this poi-.”

“But you’re really not proposing?” She cut him off, not wanting to hear anything from his vulgar mouth anymore.

“Shut up.” He chuckled, mindlessly playing footsie with her under the table. “I’m serious about it though.”

“Marrying me?”

Bakugou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as a smile played on his lips, “About how we’re past the honeymoon stage.”

“What’s that?”  Lifting her mug of tea for the second time, she finally took her first sip of what was always a good cup of morning coffee when made by someone else, specifically Bakugou.

“You know... That period at the beginning  of the relationship when everything goes well and is free of problems.”

“Aside from arguing whether the toilet seat cover should stay up or not?”

Bakugou smiled fondly at her. “Sure.”

Their grins were far too wide and cheesy for this early in the morning but the feeling of giddiness they felt inside was too much to conceal and, without any further word on the subject, the rest of breakfast was served so the two could quiet down their grumbling stomach like a proper non-fling-type couple.

(y/n)’s trying the ring on her fingers, and when it only fits on her fourth finger (like he’d hoped), Y/N’s looking back at him. “I care about you too.” She smiled reassuringly. “And to prove it,” She began, stabbing a portion of Bakugou’s food with a fork. “I’ll have this piece of your pancake, thank you very much.”

“Where’s the correlation?”

“I just wanted to steal some food from you, sorry.”

“You’re not very good at being sly, aren’t you?” Bakugou giggled, playing with the matching ring on his pinky finger. “ I just. I love you, you know? And, like. I know we’re still young, so it’s obviously not an engagement ring. I like to consider it a promise. Something to keep your finger warm till I get you a proper ring.”

//

“—so now what? You just wait for me to leave so you can— what? Cheat on me?!” Bakugou slammed his open palm down on the wooden table, eyes alit with a fury so strong that even (y/n)'s terrified because she's never, ever, seen him this angry before. She's had fights with him before, of course she has, they've been together for over three years, but she's never seen him this determined to win an argument– to the extent that if they were in a cartoon show, he'd probably have smoke puffing out of either side of his ears.    

But this is no time for her imagination to be running wild because she's pissed, too. So much anger flooded her veins that tears accumulating in the corner of her eyes are almost spilling out — that's the worst kind of anger.   

(y/n) gaped at him. “Are you fucking serious right now? I had one single conversation with that guy and and you— you think I’m cheating on you?!” 

And what's filling her with rage is that what they're fighting over is stupid, good Lord, it's so fucking stupid.

It started with (y/n) telling Bakugou about how she's finally found a dream, something to chase, because she's spent most of her life without having decided what to do for herself or wanting anything in her life. That dream involved her going to a school, outside the country, and that turned into a tiny misunderstanding, which blossomed into something else, followed something else after that, and then both Bakugou and Y/N were yelling at each other and calling each other names and it was all a horrible sight to see. Both of them have no idea what brought it on to this extent. All they're certain of is that they're pissed at each other and have, apparently, been pissed at each other for a long ass time.

Bakugou grinned. A grin that she loathed, because Bakugou’s grins are usually with mischief, with playfulness. Not this malice. He outstretched his arm on either sides of him, like he’s showing something off. “Well, I don’t see anyone proving me otherwise.”

She huffed, glaring right back at him. “What the hell is your problem?”

“What’s my problem?! What the hell is your problem?!” Bakugou yelled back at her, not even bothering to try to keep from shouting. He pointed out the door, “You were fucking flirting with that two-faced asshole right in front of me! You're the problem!”

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?! That was months ago, you've had that stupid excuse of a grudge on me ever since, huh?!" (y/n)'s eyes narrowed and crinkled – not in a way that Bakugou's used to seeing. "I haven't done anything wrong! All I've done is fucking been there for your stupid ambition to be the number one hero-

"Stupid? Stupid?!" Bakugou repeated incredulously, eyes widening as he quivered with anger. "I'd watch my words if I were you. This is my fucking life goal and something I want for myself that you're calling stupid."

(y/n) was nearly suffocating on her fury, her laugh void of any happiness leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "I am aware of what I'm spewing out. Your fucking dream was delusional and far fetched but I supported it, didn't I?! I watched every single match, patched up your hands when they bled from all that training, made you delicious bentos to fuel you up for the day – "   

"– And now you say it was all stupid," Bakugou laughed mirthlessly, glaring at her so hard that (y/n)'s knees start to tremble. "How romantic can this get?" He raised his voice, arms stretching out before clapping obnoxiously loud, "I hope shitting on your boyfriend's dream has given you some sort of satisfaction."   

"And you've got some nerve to pull all of this shit with me about suddenly wanting something for myself because I've met someone else and that I'm cheating on you," (y/n)'s lips tremble, her voice practically shaking with anger as she spoke, a finger going to point accusingly at him, "You're not my boyfriend. You're just one big hypocrite!"

"You fucking are, though!" His voice was laced with venom as he practically spat the words in the woman's face. "You're definitely planning to elope with some hunk city boy! I'm not fucking good enough for you, huh?!"   

And that’s— that’s the final straw. 

Relationships are about trust, and Bakugou obviously didn't fucking trust her. If he wasn't so much of a prick in how he reacted to her telling him her future plans then they'd probably be cuddled against each other, asleep, and Bakugou would be the first to start apartment hunting for her — for them, because he'd even move with her, since he knows he couldn't properly function without her.  

But before she even opened her mouth to inform him that she's done with this toxic relationship, he beat her to it, “Good thing I never fell in love with you, then.”

(y/n)’s face changed from cocky to puzzled then to heartbroken. As his words made her world crumble, Bakugou took pride in the sight of the bewildered woman before him, not planning to take his words back anytime soon since he saw this argument as a game of who can devastate the other first. And the prize was looking back on this fight one day and thinking, wow, I won that. It didn't matter what had been said and done in his book.

But (y/n) and Bakugou are two sides of the same coin; she simply wanted to have her point reach his end, so that they can both agree to put this aside and go back to their normal, non-fling-type couple selves.

“So all of this,” She motioned between them, interrupting his train of thought “meant nothing to you? You never even loved me?” She asked with what seemed to be a mixture of hurt and sadness but mainly anger. Before he could even blink, she was over hitting him on the chest with her tightly clenched fists, trying to let out her pain, “I hate you, you're the worst! You told me numerous times you loved me- that you’d never even make me feel like shit! What’s changed, Bakugou? Why can’t you love me anymore?” Her voice cracked, nonetheless she was smoldered with rage.

"Are you deaf? I said I never did. I was lying the whole time, whenever I told you that— that I did."

Bakugou took every hit she was giving him because he stood firmly on his feet, unnecessarily adding fuel to the fire, as if (y/n)'s miserable state wasn't enough to satisfy him — to drop his guard and tell her he wanted to take it back. That he wanted to say I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry, I love you, I didn’t mean to say that— but then (y/n)’s letting out a laugh that sounds so bitter, it made Bakugou flinch.

“Fine,” she breathed out, then she’s scoffing out another harsh laugh. “Then— we’re done. Wouldn’t want you to waste your time and effort in a relationship that you never thought was worth it. I don’t want to waste my time and energy being with someone who clearly doesn’t feel the same kind of love towards me.”

And she turned on her heel, ready to head straight out the door, purposefully ignoring the faint, “Wait, (y/n)—” from behind. Her opposite hand subconsciously grazed the promise ring she shared with Bakugou, and she realises something.

At one swift movement, she pulled at the said ring and threw it at him with more force than necessary. 

“What a fucking nonsense 'promise' that was,” She said out loud, and it rang through Bakugou’s ears, because he made a pathetic whining sound that's never been heard before, because this moment couldn't have a bigger emotional toll on him than anything else.

"Y/N, hear me out," he sniffled. "I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean an ounce of what I said. I know you're not cheating on me, baby, I'm sure of that. I was being a dickhead for that and I'm so fucking sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I love you, Y/N. God. I need you so much, and I was lying when I said I never did. When you're not with me, I'm not... me. And I just," he sighed, pulling the ends of his hair aggressively. "I'm sorry, I really am."

Y/N’s got a hand on the door handle, but there were fingers slowly wrapping around her other wrist. She yanked her wrist out of his hold like his touch burned, causing Bakugou's lips to shake. It's hitting him now, the fact that he's losing the girl he courted and spent so much time with. The girl who kept him wide awake at night because of how much she clouded his mind. Not to mention, the ring which symbolizes their commitment to each other, is being thrown away like it's nothing.

(y/n) peeked at him through her eyelashes, "Give me a break. I obviously don't have a place in your heart, you've made that painfully clear to me. So do me a favor and fuck off."

He very nearly heaved with his next breath. He held a hand up, ring between his pointer finger and thumb. “I meant it when I said I wanted to get serious with this relationship. I still do, and that'll never change. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, that you should be with someone— someone better in every fucking way possible, I want to be the one to marry you. That wasn’t a false promise. That was— that is the promise that I swear to God I’ll be keeping until my last breath.”

[whyarewecalledtheshipname]

Kh3 spoilers:

LOL I wrote the crack thing, posted it to ao3 with a T rating just bc there are some implications here in the form of jokes, warning in case anyone's not comfortable with that.

Summary: Data Sora and Data Riku get sent to Riku's phone to accompany him on his ventures through Unreality. Riku is appropriately lost.

This is short so we don't get any shenanigans past their first meeting.

~~~

“Hellooo?!”

Riku stares at his gummiphone screen, unblinking as a little romper-wearing Sora taps on the screen from what seems like—the inside.

Beside the little Sora is a little him, a little Riku, in a black coat instead. “Stop screaming or he won’t answer the phone,” the little Riku says tonelessly. He’s typing directly in front of the gummiphone screen (or, behind it?), but squinting somewhere off to the side, as if at an adjacent display.

“You said to call him, didn’t you?”

“You know I didn’t mean like that.”

Riku misses the first “call”, perplexed as he is, but the second call comes with even more yelling—first from the little Sora, then from the little Riku at the little Sora—and Riku is compelled to answer. He taps at the green icon on his phone with an unsteady finger, and is blinded by the little Sora’s smile, now unobstructed by buttons.

“Wow! Look how big you are, Riku!”

The little Riku in-on-behind the screen glances up at Riku for only a moment. The little Riku’s mouth twists as if he doesn’t know whether to be impressed or not.

The little Sora reads the little Riku perfectly. “Aw, c’mon Riku. It’s still you! It’s a compliment! Be proud!”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Sora. Worry about—uh, the other me...He’s probably confused.”

Riku makes a noise, because confused doesn’t even begin to describe the dizzying mesh of emotions in his chest.

Little Sora turns back to Riku—the big one—and his grin turns sharp. “Let me handle this, Riku.” (He’s still talking to the little one.) “If I let you explain, he’ll probably end up asleep again.”

Little Riku gives Little Sora a mildly offended glare. “Hey, it’s my job to know the ins-and-outs of the datascape; the data chose me.”

And Riku is immediately attuned to the little Riku’s words, and to the little Sora’s reaction. “Hey, don’t say that. Sora’s trying to help.”

The little Sora and Riku both look at Riku, then—truly look. The little Sora glows, and the little Riku finally looks appeased.

Riku doesn’t know how to feel about having his younger self’s little...smirk...turned on him. And the light in Little Sora’s eyes definitely makes Riku feel unsteady on his feet. But he stands his ground.

Sora takes a moment longer than necessary to start talking again. “Thanks, Riku. But my Riku’s—” and Riku chokes a little at the phrasing, “—just saying that because I’m always making fun of him because computers are lame.”

“Your existence literally depends on computers—” the little Riku interjects.

“Yeah, but they’re still lame. I’m the only reason you have any fun in here, huh?”

The little Riku suddenly stops typing because his fists are clenched, and he turns the color of little Sora’s romper. He sneaks a peek at Riku, but the little Sora spots it and cackles.

Even big Riku almost misses the moment Little Riku pulls up his hood, it happens so fast.

“We’re data versions of you,” Little Sora says once he’s stopped laughing, “but I bet you knew that already. The others usually call me Data Sora, and this is Data Riku.”

Riku nods after only a beat of silence.

“We got sent to watch you!” Data Sora announces brightly, as if Data Riku isn’t visibly having a meltdown right beside him, even under the hood. “Uh—! Help you, I mean. King Mickey definitely did not send us to keep an eye on you since you left all by yourself, because he definitely wasn’t super paranoid that something would happen to you, and if he was, he definitely didn’t tell me not to tell you.”

Data Sora crosses his arms behind his spiky head, and Riku doesn’t remember his own Sora being such a little brat. Oh wait, yes he does.

Just the thought of Sora reminds Riku of where he is, and why. The idea of finally finding Sora here makes him feel like he can do anything. It’s been a sensation he’s missed this past year.

Riku looks down at Data Sora, and comes back to himself. For some reason, Data Sora looks as smug as they come, and Data Riku has his hands at his temples, as if in disbelief. Or, maybe embarrassment.

“Alright,” Riku finally says. “But why send you? If anything goes wrong, couldn’t I just let them know myself? I know you guys weren’t on—in—my phone when I left, so clearly there’s still some kind of signal between here and there.”

“Look at you—me—using your brain.” Data Riku seems to have finally recovered from whatever fit Data Sora had induced, and of course the first thing Data Riku does is try to sound like he’s been chill this whole time. “But you’re still wrong. The data of your phone can still be accessed and updated even across worlds, or realities or whatever, from the main servers. But signals like the ones you’re thinking, for audio or video calls, can’t reach you here.”

Data Riku has pulled his hood back down, probably just so Riku could see the smug look on his face. “Your phone would be a useless brick here. Lucky for you, I’ve already accessed this world’s data through the kinds of signals they have here, and adapted the phone’s data accordingly. I might have to change it again once you get back, though, so don’t make any friends here you intend to keep.”

Data Sora, who’s been falling asleep, suddenly has something to say. “Hey! Don’t tell him that!” He’s pouting, though, not frowning, so neither of the Rikus bothers to reassure Data Sora. Data Riku just shrugs with his eyes closed, and when Data Sora turns to Riku as a last resort, he shrugs as well.

Data Sora crosses his arms, huffing. “Two Riku’s, and they both suck.”

For some reason, Data Sora grins, and Data Riku absolutely panics.

“Nonono, don’t, Sora! Don’t say it! I will actually delete you!”

It’s as if Data Sora doesn’t even hear the threat. His grin just gets sharper. “But Riku, then what’ll you do for fun?”

Data Riku releases a tortured sound, smashing frantically at his keyboard, and the screen goes dark. Data Riku didn’t just end the call, he shut down the whole phone.

Riku’s perplexed face stares back at him from the dark screen, and he wonders what in unreality is going on in the datascape.

[lilbabycee]

bunny // steve rogers (part two) 🐰

READ PART ONE

↳ summary: the reader gets an unwelcome visitor

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x brat!reader

↳ word count: 5.3k

↳ warnings: sugar baby au, eventual dark steve, daddy kink, eventual smut, mentions of substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms + relationships, the reader is rich and a little bit of a bitch

↳ author’s note: it’s back! :) enjoy my loves! x

chapter two: it was for me too

---

"if you really listen, then this is to you mama, there is only so much I can do tough for you to witness it but it was for me too"

- r.i.p 2 my youth, the neighbourhood

---

You can do nothing but nod dumbly, eyes roaming the large figure standing in front of you. The only thing that snaps you out of your trance is Natasha’s quiet exhalation of breath through her nose, her little laugh making you woman up and place your hand in Steve’s larger one.

“Likewise,” you speak lightly, your words little more than puffs of air escaping your mouth. His eyes don’t leave yours for a second and the longer you look at his face, the more that you start to believe that you know him from somewhere. But he drops your hand the moment that recognition starts to claw at your brain and the up-and-down look that he gives you snaps you out of any deep thought.

“So, bunny,” a teasing voice comes from beside you, causing you to tear your eyes away from Steve’s. From the way he’s smirking at you, you assume that Sam was the one who spoke up. Turning your whole body away from Steve, you saunter up to the handsome man glowing like bronze underneath the warm light and take the drink he pours for you with a sultry smile - and you know that you should never take drinks from strangers but without really knowing why, you already trust this man.

“That’s me,” you throw him a wink, sipping from the glass slowly.

“Where’d you get a name like that?” He pats the arm of the sofa and as your smile grows, you perch yourself on it, crossing one leg over the other. Natasha follows your lead, situating herself on an armchair to your right, in between the couch that Steve sits on and the one that holds you, Bucky, and Sam. You open your mouth about to answer Sam’s question, but Natasha swiftly steps in.

“I gave it to her,” she grins, running a hand through her loose waves. You can see both Sam and Bucky’s eyes follow her movements which makes you laugh a little, the hunger displayed in both the pools of brown and blue almost overtly obvious.

“Why?” Bucky’s voice rasps, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. Your eyes can’t help but follow the movement - you’re not blind and he’s a very attractive man - but you stop short when you realize that someone is searing holes into the back of your neck. Looking to the side, you can see that Steve has sat down in his previous seat, hands resting on thick thighs and legs spread wide.

His eyes are on you - unflinchingly, you note, even as yours meet his; it’s obvious that he saw your eyes glued to Bucky’s lips. You engage in a quick staring match and even though you’re not usually the type to back down easily, the way that your face heats up and his gaze makes you feel has you looking away after merely a few seconds.

Your eyes refocus on Natasha and stay there.

“It’s because she’s like the energizer bunny,” your best friend snorts, taking the proffered glass of rosé from Sam’s hand and taking a sip. Her statement makes all the men laugh - apart from Vision because he’s too busy whispering in Wanda’s ear for him to be involved in the rest of the conversation and by Wanda’s reaction, you can tell that their conversation isn’t exactly fit for public consumption.

Natasha continues, tracing a finger along the rim of her glass, “Once she gets on something, it’s… she’s, like, stuck on it, you know? Can’t get enough of it - she goes crazy over it, gets super excited and stuff. It’s cute-”

You interrupt her with a groan, causing a chorus of laughs and ooh’s to rise from the group. “Nat- I-I don’t even like that nickname anyway. I’d rather you call me literally anything else-”

“Okay, bunny,” Bucky grins at you and you reach over Sam to swat at his very hard arm, all traces of your previous nervousness having dissipated with the alcohol. Your hand comes back sore but to humor you, you suppose, Bucky recoils from you and dramatically sinks down in his chair, wailing exaggeratedly.

“Sounds good, bunny,” Sam joins in, flashing you a cheeky smile that only earns him a blow on his equally thick bicep that leaves your hand stinging but he too rubs at his arm after drawing a sharp intake of air through his teeth. They’re funny, so you throw your head back and laugh - really laugh - and find yourself slipping off the side of the couch and into Sam’s lap. You let out a little squeal as Natasha and Bucky laugh at you.

“Whoa there, bunny,” Sam chuckles, hands immediately coming up to grip your waist tightly. “Slow your roll.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but you’re only mock-annoyed: “Christ, Sam, take a girl out on a date first.”

The response you get from the man underneath you is mirthful - “You’re the one who landed on me, darlin’” - and causes you to smile, but then you feel it again , his eyes so intently focused on the side of your face. You choose to ignore it because if this guy has a staring problem, he can take it up with-

“-you,” Bucky flicks Sam’s ear playfully. “I get plenty of women.”

“Oh yeah, Barnes? ‘Cause your lap is lookin’ awfully empty -”

And the two go back and forth like this for what seems like an eternity. You know that you’ve lost Wanda to Viz , the seat that they once occupied currently vacant. You kind of want to be annoyed at her because she promised that she’d help you with what you really came here for in the first place, but you can’t because, for the past few weeks, you and Natasha have kind of maybe been avoiding her to some degree because, really and truly, she’s been such an uptight bitch - and you say that in the nicest way possible - so you want her to get some dick in peace so that she can release all of that backed-up tension.

You love her, really, but a sexually frustrated Wanda has the potential to rival your mother in terms of how completely unbearable they are to be around.

You turn to speak to Natasha but then Steve clears his throat loud enough for everyone to hear which causes all chatter to cease. He sighs loudly, running a hand over his bearded jaw before he speaks. You can’t help but take some more time to admire the beauty of his jawline, so defined and sharp that you wonder if it could cut up the skin on the insides of your thighs-

“I mean, while I’d love to continue this,” Steve checks his Rolex, “we should probably get down to what you girls really came for.” His eyes land pointedly on you, and you realize that you’re still sat comfortably on Sam’s lap. You sit back even further, wrapping your arm around Sam’s shoulders. Steve’s fists are clenched so hard that you’re sure that his blunt nails are digging into the palms of his hands.

You decide that you’re not going to move.

“Right,” your best friend leans forward to put her empty glass on the coffee table where your own lies and clears her throat. She then says your name and gestures vaguely to where you’re sitting, “she’s looking for an arrangement similar to what Wanda and Vision have-”

“-and since Wanda isn’t here to help us explain exactly what all of that consists of,” you butt in, pressing your long thumbnail to your lower lip and pushing it into your mouth, “we were wondering if you gentlemen would be kind enough to help us out?”

Natasha’s head snaps to yours, her eyebrow raised in a way that says this is not what we agreed on and you reply with it’s fine, but then she responds with why don’t we just wait for Wanda and you don’t even think that warrants a reply. You give her a deadpan look and she physically holds her hands up in surrender; you both know that Wanda’s not coming home with the two of you tonight. The three men around you look lost so you direct your attention back to them.

“So?” you follow up, sucking lightly on the end of your nail. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see Steve’s darkened eyes - his pupils are blown and they only leave a thin ring of blue around them. The rise and fall of his broad chest has gotten just that little bit faster.

He’s so pretty.

“The arrangements are different for all of us,” Bucky downs the amber liquid in his glass. “So it’d just depend on who you’re interested in gettin’ to know, doll. Got anyone in mind right off the bat?”

Oh wow - you didn’t expect to be put on the spot like this so early into this conversation. But you don’t mind; the pressure or awkwardness that should come with a question like this in a situation as unique as this one doesn’t come. You only smile coyly, batting your eyelashes and looking down.

“Oh, well,” you start shyly, swinging your legs innocently. “I don’t really know about all that yet-”

“It’s alright, bunny,” the voice ignites a fire in your veins so you know who’s just spoken. “We’ll make this decision easy for you. She’s mine, boys.”

This makes you choke yet again, causing you to clear your throat loudly. Your fingertips press down on your cheeks just to see how warm your face really is from this blatant stake of his claim on you. Normally, you’d be the first one to protest, completely indignant that this man thinks that he owns you in any capacity. But there’s none of that kind of passion here; rather, you’re more- no, probably not- no, definitely turned on by his words.

The two other men, much like Natasha did only a minute ago, throw their hands up in acquiescence. In fact, they both seem so moved by Steve’s words that they trip over each other to speak.

“Yeah, that’s all good, man.”

“Sounds good to me, pal.”

There’s a lull in the conversation while you all digest the implications of Steve’s exclamation. You twist your fingers together, scraping your nails against each other.

“So,” you drag out the last syllable. “Is there some kind of… contract or something?”

---

You wake up in a bed that feels far too crowded to be your own. There’s a body wrapped around yours, another set of legs intertwined with yours and an arm draped over your torso. In your groggy state, it takes all the willpower that you can summon to turn your head to the left and check who the fuck is sleeping in next to you in- your bed (???).

The hand of the arm that isn’t currently being pinned down by another human being comes up to rub at your eyes, clearing up your bleary vision so that you can try to successfully identify your intruder.

You could say that you’ve never woken up in a situation like this but that would be a lie and your New Year’s resolution this year was that you’d try to be more honest - so the truth is that this is definitely not the first time that you’ve woken up in a situation like this and if anything, this is probably the safest you’ve felt out of all of those scenarios.

Half of the person’s head is buried underneath the duvet so you squint a little in the obnoxiously bright morning light - you silently curse the sun for not wanting to take a fucking day off today - so that you can try to make out a defining feature of the body on top of you. Once your eyes focus, the mop of red hair spread across the white sheets makes you groan and close your eyes again.

You honestly didn’t have a game plan if it wasn’t Natasha.

Confused, you attempt to think back to exactly what happened last night. Since you’ve woken up with Natasha, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt and assume that nothing too compromising happened last night. After nights like Peter’s, you normally cannot immediately recognize the person next to you, so you’re going to take this as a glass half full kind of moment and call it a plus.

Nothing illegal took place as far as you can remember which is another first for you - apart from your excessive underage drinking but you turn twenty-one in a year so you shrug it off.

Wow, maybe I am growing.

After your conversation with those men - there was no contract - you had sent Wanda a text to let her know that you and Natasha were heading home. There was nothing at this party that you hadn’t seen before, so frankly, your work there was done and you had no more business at Peter’s. Speaking of, you did manage to run into him right before you left just to say goodbye to him - ever the gracious guest - and tease him some more about MJ. Naturally, he turned redder than the burgundy suit pants he was wearing and gave both you and Nat kisses on the cheek before almost running away from the two of you.

That gave you a good laugh.

You were halfway to Nat’s car when none other than Steve Rogers appeared from the shadows to put your number on his phone. He said nothing other than I’ll call you before walking further down the valet parking to get his own car. Natasha beeped her horn at you when she saw you lingering - you were staring at his ass - so you hurried to hop in the passenger’s seat of her black sports car after she shouted for you to get in the Porsche or I’m leaving your ass on the side of the road.

And now your phone rings; you can’t help that the weaker side of your brain wants so badly for it to be Steve. He left you with a promise - albeit a vague one - and you think that you’re going to hold him to that, although you don’t know how exactly how you’d go about that since he’s the one who has your number.

Shit.

Natasha groans loudly at the shrill noise coming from your phone speakers, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over her face.

She says your name exasperatedly, “I thought I told you to put that shit on silent-”

“Sorry, sorry,” you tell her, rolling your eyes because you don’t remember her telling you that, and then you sit up. At this moment, you realize that you actually aren’t in your own apartment and are in Natasha’s very grey and white bedroom that you always have something critical to say about. Reaching for your phone, you’re shocked that it’s not dead and is at a respectable 16%. The caller ID shows you nothing useful - unknown caller - and this only gives you some more hope that it’s the handsome man you met last night. You clear your throat before pressing that green button.

“Hello?” you wince at the dryness of your throat, spying an unopened water bottle next to where your phone lay. You grab it and pop the cap hastily, taking a swig while you wait for the reply of the other person.

A very distinctly feminine squeal makes you sigh in disappointment before you pause, the familiar voice making you smile sleepily.

“Shit- fuck, get out of my way- brother-” the person says your name loudly and you know by the rich accent and the impatient tone that it’s-

“Shuri,” you muster up as much enthusiasm as you can for a call this early in the morning - you pull your phone back from your ear to see that it’s actually already 10:33 a.m and wince - because you are actually genuinely excited to hear from your Wakandan best friend. Natasha pulls the pillow off her face at the sound of the girl’s voice through the speaker, and a grin of her own lights up her face.

“Hi, bitch!” Shuri yells and you close your eyes, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless. “I’m almost at your place - I’ll be there in ten.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your chest and you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Whose phone are you calling from? And Shuri, I’m not at home right now-”

“‘Koye’s - mine’s dead and in the back. Are you with Nat?”

“Well, yeah-”

“Are you two fucking? Without me? ”

The redhead next to you can’t contain her laughter either, curled up in the sheets next to you gasping for breaths.

“Sorry to break it you like this, babe,” you play along. “No, Peter had a party last night-”

“I know - I heard about it. Sounded like fun, but my Baba and I had to do some appearances in D.C yesterday before we came to this goddamn crowded city- brother, I’ll call it whatever I want to call it - Bast, get out of the car.”

There’s some rustling and the sound of a car door slamming before Shuri releases a deep, tired breath.

“I didn’t know you were coming this week,” Natasha has sidled up next to you, resting her head on your shoulder so that Shuri can hear her voice after putting your phone on speaker.

“Neither did I,” the Wakandan princess snorts, the sound of deafening car horns and faint yelling in the background almost drowning out her lilted tone. “It was kind of a last-minute decision. But enough about me - you don’t care about all this stuff. I heard you guys met with Bucky Barnes last night-”

“How do you know Bucky?” You frown, picking at your nails.

“Long story,” she says flippantly, sighing before clearing her throat. “But that’s not the point - I know what kinda guy Bucky Barnes is. What kinda business did you two have hanging around people like that?”

“Well, I wanna hear the story-”

“Shut up,” Natasha doesn’t even look at you when she says the words. “We’re- actually, it’s not even me- she’s looking for a-”

“-sugar daddy?!” Shuri exclaims so loud that both you and Natasha flinch as you move the phone further away from you. Maybe putting her on speaker was a mistake. “What- no, Okoye, not me...yes I’m sure,” the princess’ voice becomes more hushed, “bunny...what do you of all people need a sugar daddy for, miss princess of New York?”

Nat chortles louder than you like so you shoot her a glare, smacking a pillow over her face before redirecting your attention back to the confused girl over the phone. “Daddy cut me off and-”

Shuri;’s laugh is completely mocking and would definitely be offensive if it were anyone else, but you can do nothing but sit there and pout. Natasha’s laughter becomes louder and you roll your eyes, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. You throw your phone at your best friend, causing her to almost fall off the side of the bed trying to dodge it.

“Shut up, both of you,” you scowl. “Shuri, let me know when you’re here - I’m going to go take a shower and reflect on my taste in friends. You guys are both the worst-”

Already halfway inside the en-suite, you only hear a faint chorus of “ We love you too!” before the lock clicks behind you.

---

When you stroll out of the private elevator that leads directly to your apartment, you’re staring at something funny that Shuri’s sent you on Instagram as you walk through the front door, a blindingly white smile on your face. The chunky black and white Balenciaga sneakers on your feet pound the floor lightly and your hand comes up to tug absent-mindedly at one of the strings of Natasha’s black hoodie before running it down the leg of the matching cycling shorts. You push your sunglasses to the top of your head, the minty flavor of your gum filling your tastebuds and the loud sound of your nails clicking against your phone screen echoing against your high walls and tall ceilings.

The sound of a throat clearing makes you blink hard, your eyelash extensions brushing your skin as you look up to determine the identity of your intruder.

Once you see who it is, you physically are unable to prevent the loud “fuck” from falling from your lips. So when she stands up from your couch in your living room with her arms folded over her breast implants and her full, fake lips pursed while her eyebrows shoot to her hairline, you can’t help but laugh, surprised that she can still look like a raging bitch with all that botox in her face. 

Her grating voice squeaks your name indignantly making you roll your eyes as you drop your oversized black bag by your shoe rack. Kicking off your trainers, you breeze right past her and flop down on one of your sofas, the plush material soothing your aching bones.

It’s been five days since Peter’s party and since then, Wanda had given both Bucky and Sam your number upon their request - you’ve been texting them all week. As much as you love your friends, these men are hands-down two of the funniest people that you’ve ever met. Despite your frequent conversations with his two best friends, there’s been radio silence from Steve Rogers. You don’t want to give these men the impression that you’re desperate - even though that’s exactly what you are - but you’re getting impatient. You don’t chase anybody; not once in your entire life has anyone made you work for their attention, so this whole situation is making you antsy.

You’ve just returned from the gym with Sam and Bucky where you were shocked to turn up outside only to see the two men shirtless, a huge but not unwelcome surprise in more than one way - “you have a fucking metal arm?!” - and it was truly a gift from above to essentially watch them work out from your place on the treadmill. You couldn’t even run - you almost fell on your goddamn face - because you were so distracted by the strong, glistening men across from you. You had instead slowed to a walk, texting Natasha and Shuri, sending them videos of these gorgeous men lifting seemingly impossibly heavy amounts with such ease and agility.

You couldn’t deny that it was making you feel things.

They then insisted that you should come and lift with them because “it’s rude to stare, bunny” and that was definitely less fun than just watching them.

And now here you sit, lounging carelessly and purposefully ignoring the presence of the woman sitting across from you. She sighs loudly, drumming her freshly-manicured red claws on the armrest of the couch, her eyes glued onto your face. Clearing her throat louder this time, you can feel the heat of her gaze on your profile burn hotter.

“Honey, are you just going to let me sit here all day?” your mother whines - like a child, you think - and flicks her hair face from her face.

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ and then fall silent, chewing your gum audibly, satisfied when you see her eye twitch in your periphery.

The two of you sit like this for a while, the deafening quiet weighing heavily on your mother’s shoulders. She’s always been a woman who’s liked to talk, fill moments of peace with mindless chatter and you’ve hated it all your life.

“Stop slouching,” your mother suddenly snaps, letting out yet another sigh, but one of relief as if it’s been painful for her to hold in her chest. With the silence effectively broken, you give a sigh of your own and finally meet her eyes, the same pretty color as yours shining back at you like a mirror. Then you assess the rest of her: the bleached blonde extensions, over-lined lips, and the designer coral pantsuit. You hold her gaze as you slip further down onto the couch, your posture even more relaxed than before. She narrows her own at you and a Chesire cat grin spreads on your face.

“You didn’t come here to correct my posture, mother,” you tell her, looking back at your phone, “so to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You haven’t been returning my calls,” she arches an eyebrow, dusting an imaginary piece of lint off of her pants, “even though I told your dad to tell you when you called him a week ago-”

“You don’t think there’s a reason that I’ve been dodging your calls?” you ask rhetorically, running the pad of your thumb over an eyebrow. Your birth giver cocks her head at you curiously, as if she’s truly confused as to why you don’t seem to like her-

“I don’t know why you don’t like me,” she states airily, examining her nails contemplatively. Your eyes dart back to hers in surprise, your jaw literally dropping because you’re that floored. “I’ve been nothing but kind to you-”

“Get out,” you say quietly, immediately shutting her up.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said get out,” you repeat, tossing your phone onto the couch behind you and standing up swiftly. Your mother is still sitting across from you, so you gesture with your hands so as to emphasize your point. “You should be lucky I haven’t fucking blacklisted you from this apartment-”

She exclaims your name, “-don’t cuss at me-”

You power through, “-after all you’ve done to me - so what I mean, mother, is get the fuck out of my apartment!”

Your voice carries through your home. When the echoes finally stop, the woman in front of you turns her nose up at you, clutches her taupe Birkin, and clicks those stupid stilettos all the way to your elevator. When she presses the button, she turns around to glare at you, failing to notice your defensive stance or how you’re fighting tears that you thought you’d already spent years crying out.

“Your father will be hearing about this,” she smirks and the doors open, bathing the side of her face in bright, artificial light. You don’t even look at her as the elevator chimes and the rose gold doors slide closed. But when they do, all of the breath leaves your body in a loud sob, your shaking hands coming up to wipe at your eyes.

The ringing of your phone interrupts you, the caller ID a number that you don’t recognize. In your current state, you answer it unthinkingly, not even registering that you’re about to be speaking to a total stranger.

“Hello?” You sniffle over the phone, running your sleeve over your cheeks to rid them of any tear tracks.

The person over the line greets you by saying your name in a deep tone that shoots straight to your panties, meaning that you know exactly who this is. It’s the call you’ve been waiting for the whole week and of all times, this is when he decides to pick up his damn phone and remember that you exist?

Motherfucker.

“Steve,” you breathe, gulping down large amounts of air to try and keep any residual tears at bay. “I-, uh, hi.”

His chuckle on the other end of the phone causes your cheeks to heat up because it should be illegal to sound like that. “Hi to you too, bunny-” you interrupt him with a shaky breath that’s louder than you anticipate, “-hold on, have you been crying?”

Shit, you think, massaging your temples. “Yeah,” you admit, sniffing again. It’s likely that your ears are deceiving you, but you think that you hear him groan, a sinful sound from deep in his throat that makes even more moisture pool in your underwear. “It’s not a big deal though - it’s nice to hear from you.”

“Are you doin’ okay?” he asks softly, making your heart do little flips in your chest.

“I’m fine,” you state almost automatically, hoping to brush off any concern and move on. You walk over to your fridge, scanning the contents before your eyes land on the row of clear, blue-capped bottles with a pink flower on the front. You put your phone on speaker and place it on the counter as you snatch one of the bottles of water from the shelf, cracking it open and taking a long swig from it.

“You don’t sound fine,” Steve protests, sounding borderline amused. “Maybe you can tell me all about it when I take you out to dinner tonight.”

He tells you mid-swig and of course, there’s no way for him to know his, but you’re so taken aback that you falter, subsequently choking on all of the water in your mouth. The coughs that wrack your body are violent, and there’s a burn in your throat from the strength of your body’s automatic reaction. You have to shut the fridge door and turn around, bracing a hand on the island counter where your phone lies.

“Sweetheart?” he probes, probably holding back a laugh but you can’t really discern whether or not that’s true over the ear-splitting sound of your coughing.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologize, wheezing through the paralyzing attack on your body. “That sounds great - where are we going?”

You finally recover, taking another - slower - sip of your drink, tears stinging your eyes.

“Hey now,” Steve laughs again, and you can’t help but notice how carefree he is now compared to the night you met him. It makes you smile. “That’d be telling. Just be ready by 8 - I’ll get my driver-”

“-oh no, that’s okay - if you give the location to my driver, he can take me-”

“No,” his voice is booming, even through the phone, and it gives you pause. His authoritative tone should’ve made you cry, especially with all that’s happened in your past, but instead, a tidal wave of desire makes you shudder and threatens to pull you underneath the surface. “My driver will pick you up at 8,” he repeats and you press the power button on the side of your phone so it shows you the time: 2:49, “and I’ll send over something appropriate for you to wear. Are we clear?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

“I asked if we were clear, sweetheart,” his voice has taken on a warning tone now and you can’t deny the heat that courses through you.

“Yes, sir,” you give him the answer almost instinctively, frowning afterward because you feel like you’re in school.

“Good girl, bunny baby,” he coos and it’s this that makes you almost audibly moan.

You? A praise kink?

Absolutely.

“I’ll see you then, hmm, honey?” he prompts you to respond. Normally, you don’t let anybody that you’re romantically involved with call you honey because it reminds you so acutely of your mother, and you suspect that she knows that which is why she keeps calling you that stupid nickname. But with Steve, you already feel like you’re in no place to be making demands.

And for the first time in your life, that doesn’t bother you all that much.

“Yes, Steve,” your eyelashes flutter and you squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease yourself of the growing discomfort at your most sensitive area.

“Good, good,” he speaks, sounding distracted. “I’ve got a meeting now, bunny - talk later.”

You don’t even get an opportunity to say your own goodbye before he ends the call. You save him to your contacts quickly before you forget, and then a thought hits you that makes you freeze.

How does he know your size and - more importantly - how the fuck does he know where you live?

tagged: @evnscvll​ @donutloverxo​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @literaturefeen​ @smutdiariess​ @90sinspiredgirl​ @cruelsummer-s​ @honnneyybee 

[collectionofcherries]

☕ Morning Coffee ☕ Malcolm Reynolds

So everyone seemed to enjoy my Morning Coffee imagine with Hannibal Lecter so I thought I’d do one with Malcolm Reynolds. In synopsis Morning Coffee is a simple concept, it follows your morning to the start of your cup to the end of it. Hope you enjoy! ---

written in the mind-frame of a Female!Reader but there are no pronouns mentioned nor gender specific anatomical body parts.  Warnings: None, fluff, my attempt at humour. Word Count: 1,812 ---

Malcolm Reynolds

   Dinosaurs in space. You suppose you've dreamed of weirder but when a T-Rex in a spacesuit came at you you'd decided it was time to wake up and stay up. So here you were now, feet kicked up on the dashboard beside the plastic mini monstrosity that had decided to terrorize you. You hadn't questioned the little knick-knacks when you'd agreed to pilot this Firefly, there were a number of things you hadn't questioned like the fact there was some interesting to say in the least patchwork on this chair, patchwork that might've hinted to what kind of nightmare had actually happened here. But there was a sadness around the cockpit and no matter your curiosity you knew it was best to not ask. Plus Zoe scared you a little bit too much to ask, she already didn't seem to like you as a pilot as nothing you did seemed to impress her and Gorram had you tried to impress her to get on some good footing but so far it seemed like you were on your knees. “Do you even have teeth?” You wondered out loud.    You leaned forward and for the first time actually touched the hard plastic figurine to inspect it, it was worn down and the paint flecked off of it and as for the teeth your nightmares told you to be afraid of? Fused together. This T-rex couldn't have eaten you if it wanted too, couldn't even take off a toe. You stretched your arm out and the picture of a dinosaur in space was kind of funny especially as your tired eyes focused on the T-rex and the space behind it became blurry. “Ya, having fun?”    If this chair wasn't attached to the ground you're sure you would've taken it with you to the ground but with the limited amount of motion you just managed to flail like an idiot in front of the Captain. “It fell. I wasn't touching it.” You let out.    You felt caught, like a child with their hand in their parents wallet. A small chuckle let you know however that you weren't. “It's fine, space is yours now anyhow.” He shrugged.    The words didn't have any malice but they didn't feel honest and even if they were you'd never throw out these toys. You got ahold of yourself and put the T-Rex back near its Stegosaurus friend before looking over at Mal and to your surprise he had two cups in his hands. “Double fisting some caffeine?” You teased.    “Funny.” He remarked as he came over and offered a cup out to you. "Saw you was up, figured you'd want a cup.”    “Oh.” That was awful nice, wow. “Thank you.” You said taking it.    You expected him to leave since that's what everyone does, you'd pretty much had the cockpit to yourself since you'd signed onto the crew but instead he went over to the other seat and sat down with a sigh. He leaned back into the seat and the way he stared around at his ship was with contentment, free hand giving the arm of the chair a pat. There had always been something sort of heartwarming about the way Mal treated the ship, it was almost like he was giving her moral support and you'd be damned if there hadn't been times where it'd felt like that really was the only thing holding her together. “What? I got something in my hair?”     You were brought out of your thought. “Huh?”    “You were starin’.” He let you know.    “Was not.” You insisted, heart pumping at the idea of being caught gawking.    “Your eyes just stuck?” He teased.    “I was...” You paused and you swore steam was about to come out of your ears you were thinking so hard to come up with something plausible. Shit, shit, shit--maybe? No--Got it! “I was just making sure I wasn't dreaming, don't usually have anyone up here with me.”    Got it? Really? You got nothing. You couldn't even smile at your own garbage excuse as all you got with a small shrug and nod from Mal before he looked away from you. Was it possible to dig yourself a hole while in space? It seemed like against all odds it was. You took a deep breath and focused yourself on the coffee in your hand, you couldn't say anything dumb if your mouth was full so you took a sip. The warmth helped to eat away your nerves and the taste distracted your mind. “I get it right? I've seen you have coffee once and I tried to replicate the way you desecrate it with sugar.” He joked.    “One, ouch. Two, sugar brings out the notes in coffee. And three, yes you got it spot on, shiny.” You admitted almost defeatedly at the end.    “That might pass as a reason for that much sugar if this was actual coffee, the only notes in instant is dirt.” He jokingly scoffed.    “I'm a pilot, I don't like dirt. Gotta drown out that taste somehow.” You joined in teasing yourself.    It earned you a smile that you couldn't help but to return. Mal's smile was weathered but Gorram if it wasn't contagious. This time however you made sure not to stare too long and got yourself to look out the front instead at the stars that the ship swam through. “Anything worrying gotcha up?” He asked.    It was nice to him to check, as far as Captains you've piloted for so far Mal had been the most caring, still rough around the edges but it wasn't all he was made of unlike some of the Fèihuà Captains you'd crewed with. “Dinosaurs.” You admitted sheepishly.    “Dinosaurs?” He checked.    “Dinosaurs in space.” You clarified as if that made it make more sense.    “Suppose I've heard weirder before.” He shrugged with a chuckle. “’Least with you it ain't some kind of poetry I gotta unwind.” He remarked.    You knew he was talking about River, sometimes what she said was easy to understand and other times it felt like you were trying to solve the Da Vinci Code. “You don't know that, I could be talking metaphorically about the ancient dangers of space.” You tease.    He chuckled as he looked over at you, eyes crinkling at the corners with joy that some might consider unnatural this early in the morning. “Oh yeah? Enlighten me to these ancient dangers then.” He challenged quirking up an eyebrow.    Your brain practically whirred trying to think. “You know I just don't know if it's possible to bring you to my level of enlightenment over the complex subject that dinosaurs in space.” You settled on, nodding every time your mind came up with the next part of the sentence to make it comprehensible.    You accented your brilliant statement with a loud sip of coffee. “One can only dream of such enlightenment.” He settled on.    “It was actually a dream that led me to this enlightenment.” You let him know.    He looked at the plastic toys. “They are a might frightening, certainly turn the legs to jelly.” He teased.    You let out a small laugh and even though it was teasing you enjoyed it, it was lighthearted. “What about you, anything got you up? Metaphoric ancient dangers or otherwise?” He pauses at the question before letting out a small exasperated sigh and shrug, his free hand opening and closing to accompany the shrug. “Come on I told you about my fear of space dinosaurs I think you can tell me about whatever is running through that pretty head of yours.” You insisted trying to keep the lighthearted tone going.    He scoffed with a smile. “Pretty head of mine? Ugh, you're our pilot so tell me you don't need glasses.” He scoffed.    “Don't ‘ugh’ me.” You chided, copying his dissatisfied noise. “My eyesight is perfectly fine.” You insisted.    He rolled his eyes and shook his head a little but you could've sworn you saw the tips of his ears and cheeks tinge with a little bit of red. You had to take another sip of your coffee to hide your grin over that. “Beg to differ.” He settled on.    “Then beg.” You quickly quipped.    You almost spat out your coffee in glee of his reaction. You managed to choke down the liquid in your mouth before falling into a fit of giggles at the look of astonishment on his face. Even he had a good laugh at it once the shock had subsided. “That's good, I'll have to remember that.” He chuckled before calming himself down to take a sip of his coffee.    You nodded along in agreement before taking a sip of your own coffee only to be greeted by a whole lot less liquid than you expected. You stared down into your cup to find it now barren expect for the small flower Kaylee had probably painted on the bottom staring up at you. It was just a pretty little daisy that had no business being as cute as it was, speaking of pretty things having no business being a cute as they were you brought your attention back over Mal. He still looked amused as a small smile kept the corners of his mouth turned up.     “Glad to hear you've come to your senses and agree with me.” You let him know.    “I didn't say that.” He insisted.    “I certainly don't hear any of that begging.” You remarked.    He looked over at you a little unimpressed but his smile was still there so you just smiled bigger, practically daring him to do it and he knew it. He silently conceded with a small head shake before taking the last sip of his own coffee and he too seemed to stare down at the little flower in the bottom of the cup for a moment. He took a deep breath as he got up. “You finished?” He asked before heading towards the door.    “Yes, unless you're offering a second cup?” You cheekily asked.    “Oh, now I see, you were just buttering me up.” He accused with a smirk.    “Only if it worked.” You agreed offering your cup out.    He let out a small amused breath before taking the cup out of your hand which only made you smile more. “Be a waste of perfectly good sugar if you didn't have another cup since there's so much left in here.” He reasoned before heading out.    “Whatever you convince your pretty head of.” You nearly sang.    You heard him chuckle as he made his way down the steps and you smiled to yourself as you looked out vastness of space, a vastness you'd gotten used to over the years. You gave a pat to the dashboard of Serenity as a thank you to her for letting you on to enjoy the vastness of space with this crew. --- ~Admin Coral 🍒 Buy Me A Coffee? --- Note: Fèihuà 废话 roughly translates into bullshit in Chinese. 

[thelargefrye]

GRIMOIRE: TALE OF TALES. DAY O1.

── summary. it all started when you found him floating in the water.

── roles. pirate!ateez, pirate!reader

── genres. pirates, humor, eventual poly relationship, future supernatural

── word count. 3.4k

── warnings. cussing

── main menu. 

ten years ago, somewhere in the middle of the ocean

“brat, what the hell are you looking at?” you turn your head to look at your adoptive mother, taeyeon, who stands behind you with her arms crossed. 

“there’s a body,” you say, turning back to the ocean and pointing out into the open sea. taeyeon looks at you confused before rushing over to look overboard and sure enough there is a body floating not too far from the ship. “should we save them?”

“i don’t know. they look pretty dead to me,” taeyeon says, “just leave them to the fishes and birds.”

“what! taeyeon, we have to save them! what if they’re alive!?” you shout at her and right as the words leave your mouth your other adoptive mother, tiffany, comes onto deck.

“y/n, what are you shouting about?” she asks walking over to you since you opted to not say but show her what was wrong. “oh my! taeyeon we have to same them!” she says turning to the other woman who just looks at you two in surprise. both you and tiffany are pulling matching puppy dog faces, causing her to sigh in defeat.

“someone get that body out of the water, now!” taeyeon orders causing some nearby crew members to quickly follow their captain’s orders. you and tiffany look at each with matching victory smiles.

once they did manage to get the body out, you were surprised to see that it was a young boy around your age, maybe a little older. you also couldn’t help but notice the navy uniform that adorns his body and you find taeyeon looking at him intently.

you watched from beside tiffany as yeeun, the ship’s doctor, examined the young boy before quickly going and performing cpr on him. after a few tries, the boy finally spits up water and coughs violently.

he struggles to open his eyes but once he does, you can see the scared look on his face as he looks at all the crew members around him.

“hey it’s okay,” yeeun says, trying her best to calm the boy. “we’re not gonna hurt you.” after a few more minutes, he eventually calmed down but you could tell he was still on edge and honestly you don’t blame him.

yeeun soon enough took the boy down below deck to her room in order to do a more thorough check up on him.

“great just what i need, another brat to feed,” taeyeon mumbles but loud enough for you to hear. you turn and stick your tongue out at her to which she quickly copies you causing tiffany to laugh at the both of you. 

you don’t see the boy until a week later when you go to take yeeun some food both the both of them. you find him sitting on the spare bed used for sick crew mates as he watches yeeun work at her desk. he no longer wears his navy uniform, but instead a white button up that oddly fits him and you recognize it as yeeun’s from having done her laundry a few times.

“i have dinner!” you say, a smile on your face as you gain both the older woman and young boy’s attention.

“ah, thank you, y/n. i don’t know what i would do if you weren’t for you bringing me food,” she says with a smile as she takes the tray and sets it down on the small table away from her desk.

“you’d probably starve knowing sunny would never bring you your food,” you tease happily and yeeun nods in agreement. you then turn to look at the boy to notice his eyes already on you. once you made eye contact with him, however, he quickly turned away with a light pink color dusting his cheeks.

“hey! how are you feeling?” you ask taking a few steps towards, catching him off guard by your sudden question.

“i-i’m fine,” he stutters, not meeting your eyes.

“that’s good! yeeun is the best doctor there is, so you’re lucky we found you when we did!” you say and yeeun playfully brushes off your comment, but you know she loves the compliments. it feeds her ego.

“so...” you trailed gaining the boy’s attention, “what’s your name?”

“h-hongjoong,” he says.

“hongjoong?” you echo and he nods causing you to smile. “i like it! i’m y/n. hey, do you want to go see my secret hiding spot?”

“secret hiding spot?” it’s his turn to echo you this time causing you to smile and nod your head vigorously. “sure!” that’s the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

“after you eat hongjoong. knowing how y/n is, you won’t be able to eat until very late,” yeeun steps in before you drag hongjoong out of the room.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask turning to the doctor and giving her a glare as you put your hands on your hips.

“it means that once you get excited nothing can stop you.”

“well, duuuhhhh,” you say, “how else will i become a great pirate and see the world? a great pirate doesn’t sleep!” you exclaim, causing yeeun to laugh lightheartedly at you as you through your fist bump the air. you then turn back to hongjoong, pointing a figure at him, “meet me at the top deck when you finish, you hear? if you aren’t done in an hour i’ll drag you out by the ear.”

hongjoong is surprised but nods his head at your threat and you smile before dashing out of the room after bidding yeeun goodbye. 

“she sure is a character isn’t she?” yeeun asked, looking at the young boy who only nodded. “she keeps the ship lively no matter how long we’ve been at sea. she’s a really nice girl so she’ll take good care of you while you’re here.”

when hongjoong came on the top deck, he was surprised to see that the whole crew was made of women. he had never seen a crew like this before and had only heard of this type of crew from older navy captains and his father.

his father... 

hongjoong just shook his head at the thought of the man before he scanned the deck for you. he spotted you talking with two well-built women that looked like they could throw an average sized man over their heads without thinking. but they way they smiled at you as you jumped excitedly made him think otherwise.

he glanced up at the main mast catching a glimpse of the black flag that sailed proudly above all the others. yeeun told him that he was sailing with pirates now, but she didn’t tell him the crew name. but he knew the name. he had heard rumors and talk of this crew. the legendary female captain that sailed with the pirate king. 

the sones. 

“hongjoong!” your cheery voice snaps him out of his thoughts as he watches you walk over to him. the two women from earlier watching you both with smiles before they shake their heads and go back to working. “did you have a nice lunch?”

“i did. are you going to show me your secret hiding spot now?”

“yeah! let’s go,” you say, taking his hand into yours and pulling him back under deck and into the hold. his slightly longer legs doing well in keeping up with you pulling him along down the hall until you reach another set of stairs and go down them.

hongjoong is surprised by how well kept the place looks and you guide him through the array of storage boxes until you both are met with a small makeshift blanket fort.

“no one ever comes over to this part of the ship, so i decided to make it my own spot,” you say once you two crawled inside and you turned on the small lantern that was already there. “you can’t tell anyone about this spot, okay?”

“okay.”

“no, you have to promise,” you say seriously, before sticking your pinky out. hongjoong looks at it for a few seconds before he wraps his pinky around yours and seals the promise.

“so...” hongjoong trails off quietly catching your attention and you look at him with wide, curious eyes. “am i... the only guy on this ship? is this crew really full of women like everyone says?”

“hmm? um, no. there’s a boy who’s my age also on the ship. he’s the son of our navigator, but he’s always got a stick up his ass, so i don’t hang out with him. do you...” you hesitate for a second, “do you want to meet him?” 

hongjoong nods at your question and you nod back before climbing out of your secret spot after having made sure the lantern was turned off. you led him back to the top of the deck before guiding him over to the captain’s quarters. hongjoong took notice of how you greeted everyone and how they also greeted back while some even patted your head as you passed them.

“wow, you’re really close with everyone, huh?”

you stop walking turning to give hongjoong a confused look, “they’re my family, so why wouldn’t i be close with all of them?”

“i don’t know... i just– i just thought that pirates didn’t have the ability to love.”

“not all pirates are like that. on this ship, we’re all family and you take care and look out for one another, got that?” hongjoong nodded making you smile as you turned and started walking again.

upon entering the captain’s cabin, hongjoong felt like he was gonna pass out as he watched you just waltz in like you owned the place. he audibly gasped as he heard you greet everyone in the room. 

“i brought hongjoong in to meet yeosang,” you explained, the second male’s name leaving you with a slight disgusted tone. hongjoong came in behind you to see a boy sitting in a chair with a book in his lap. 

“oh i see the navy brat is up and running around now,” taeyeon said and hongjoong looked at the captain before looking down at the ground. 

“oh,” the blue haired woman said with a soft tone before turning to the one hongjoong assumed was yeosang. “yeosang, sweetie, why don’t you go play with y/n and hongjoong, was is?” hongjoong nodded, feeling his cheeks burn at the motherly smile she gave him.

“i don’t want to ‘play’ with y/n, she’s annoying,” yeosang said with a cold tone, not bothering to look up from his book. 

“yah! don’t think you’re some a ray of sunshine either, ass–

“y/n young, you finish that sentence, i dare you,” tiffany cuts you off, making you mumble under your breath, a strong glare trained on the brown haired boy.

“kang yeosang, you put that book down and go play with y/n and hongjoong. you need to start exercising your body more or else you won’t be able to hold that big brain of yours!” 

yeosang lets out a huff before marking his book before handing it off to his mother who happily takes it. the male walks over to you both before bumping in your shoulder on the way out. you let out a huff as well before following the boy out. hongjoong is about to also leave when taeyeon stops him.

“i hope you realize that you have some explaining to do about yourself later on right?”

“yes, ma’am, i’m aware.”

“good. now get out before the brat comes back and starts shouting.”

hongjoong quickly nods before dashing out of the room and out on the deck where he spots you and yeosang glaring at each other.

“how come you guys don’t like each other?” hongjoong asks, gaining both of yours attention.

“because he/she’s annoying!” you both say at the same time before turning back to glare at each other. hongjoong could tell the more he looked at you both that the two of you were complete opposites of each other. you would rather be outside on the deck and in the sun, while yeosang would rather be inside and reading a book. 

“well... how about we find something to do?” he suggests as he walks over to the two of you. i saw some books in yeeun’s room, so why don’t i go grab those and we read outside?”

yeosang snorted rolling his eyes causing you to turn and glare at him, “this idiot can’t read, navy boy,” he says. you cross your arms and look away from the both of them and out at the sea, a embarrassing red coloring your face and ears.

“well why don’t you teach us? because i don’t know how to read either,” hongjoong says meeting your eyes for a brief second.

“and what do i get in return?”

 “well what can y/n do that you can’t?”

you snorted this time, “i can climb up the rigging.”

“great! you teach us how to read and we’ll teach you how to climb!”

“whatever,” yeosang mumbles before walking past hongjoong and back towards the cabin. he disappears inside for a few moments before reappearing with a book. you took notice of the picture of a mermaid on the cover with the title being in a large fantasy like font that you couldn’t read.

“let’s go, idiot, navy. i don’t have all day.”

“yah! i’m not an idiot!” you shout, following after the male with hongjoong trailing behind you. 

eight years ago, somewhere in the middle of the ocean.

“wow, can you believe that not too long ago those two were always at each other’s necks?” jieun asks as she and tiffany watch you and yeosang sitting together. yeosang was helping you read through a book you had bought at the last port.

hongjoong was sitting on the other side of you as you managed to read what was on the pages, even if you did struggle on a few words here or there. 

“i know, i can’t believe it either. i guess recusing hongjoong was a good idea after all, huh, taeyeon?” tiffany ask, turning to look at taeyeon who was standing at the wheel of the ship. she let out a short hm sound making the other two women laugh. “oh, isn’t yeosang’s birthday coming up soon?” 

“in a week, i can’t believe he’ll be thirteen soon. it was like he was born yesterday and i was holding him and rocking him to sleep,” jieun says, thinking back to when her son was a baby.

“if i remember correctly, i think i saw y/n trying to wrap something the other night. i think she may have gotten him something at our last stop,” tiffany says offhandedly.

“oh? well that would be nice of her, huh?” jieun says as she looks back at the three of you with a fond smile.

a week later and you had dragged yeosang down to your secret hiding spot. you remember it was originally hongjoong’s idea after about four months of the younger male teaching you both how to read. you were against the idea at first and even got upset at the older male to the point you didn’t talk to him for a few days.

after three days however, you came up to him and apologized for getting upset before telling hongjoong that you didn’t mind showing yeosang your secret spot.

now a year later and the three of you often meet at the spot after everyone else has went to bed. you remember whispering to yeosang to meet you and hongjoong there during dinner when the crew was celebrating his birthday.

“what’s this?” yeosang asked in awe as he looked down at the two presents you and hongjoong held out to him.

“they’re our presents we bought for you,” hongjoong says before gently putting his gift in yeosang’s lap. yeosang noticed that his gift was smaller than yours, but thicker. the brown paper was easily torn away as yeosang ripped it away. he looked at the dark blue box in his hands before slowly removing the lid and letting out a gasp at what was inside.

a pen. but this pen was new and shiny with beautiful small details engraved on it. “the man at the shop said it was made of real gold, but i’m pretty sure he was lying,” hongjoong says as he looks between yeosang and the pen. “i remember you talking about needing a new one and i know its not the sa–

“i love it,” yeosang cuts him looking at the older male with a grateful smile. “thank you, hongjoong.”

“of course, happy birthday.”

you watch the two with a smile on your face, happy that yeosang liked hongjoong’s gift knowing the older had been nervous about if he would like it or not. yeosang then turns to you and you smile before handing him your present. you watch as yeosang does the same with your present as he with hongjoong’s. 

“the little mermaid?” he reads looking at the book with surprised eyes. his fingers ran over the cover of the book and you watched nervously. 

“it’s the first book you taught me and hongjoong how to read,” you said. “i remember seeing it at our last stop and the old lady said that this was the original version of the story and not the one they made for kids.”

“i love it,” he says with a smile making you grin excitedly at him. “i love both your gifts. thank you,” he adds, setting the pen and book aside and wraps an arm around each other you before bringing you both into a hug. 

“happy birthday, yeosang,” you whisper, returning the hug and resting your head on his shoulder.

present day somewhere in the middle of the ocean.

“happy birthday, yeosang,” you whisper into the male’s ear before leaning back and kissing his lips. yeosang eagerly kisses back, his hands come up to pull and hold you closer to him. 

you can’t help but smile into the kiss before you finally manage to pull away with his lips chasing after yours.

“twenty-one and needy, i figured that would be san’s thing more than yours,” you tease, causing him to roll his eyes playfully at you. “here,” you say, handing him your present.

“this brings back memories,” he says, taking the rectangle shaped gift from you. the brown paper wrapped around it is the same material from when you gave him your first gift. he opens it and looks at it questionably looking between you and the familiar book in his hands. “now this really brings back memories.”

“open it and look at the first page,” you say excitedly and he laughs before doing as you said. inside the cover was a message written from you to him and yeosang let out a surprised gasp.

dear yeosang, 

thank you for being my first rival. my first love. thank you for teaching me how to read and write, even if we fought almost everyday and probably drove hongjoong crazy. i know this isn’t something extravagant like what the others will give you, but this book is something special between us. the way you read this story so many times and how all three of us fell asleep in our secret spot to you reading it. this book holds some of my most precious memories.

i wanted to write this note in here so you know how much i love you. and so you can read this whenever you need cheering up.

love, y/n. 

“i love you, too, y/n,” yeosang says as he runs his fingers over the small note you had written to him. tears welling up in his eyes as he closes the book so as to not ruin your words with his tears as he thinks back to his birthday a few months ago. 

hongjoong stood behind yeosang, a comforting hand resting on his shoulder, “it’ll be okay yeosang. she’ll wake up, just give her time.”

yeosang nods his head weakly before he glances up at your sleeping body. yunho quietly works behind the two, as he does his best in figuring out a way to make you better.

yeosang let’s out a quiet sob as he reaches forwards and takes your hand into his, “please wake up, y/n. please.”

[another-miracle]

#4: We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair

“Well then!” Obi says, arms crossed behind his head as he watches Miss pull Eisetsu to his feet. “I guess we’re all agreed to return to the estate, hm?”

Eisetsu nods solemnly. Beside him, Miss dusts off her cloak before looking at him expectantly. Obi turns to Tsuruba who clears his throat at the attention.

“It seems that returning to our place of lodging may not be the wisest decision,” Tsuruba tells them. “For all we know, the people after Eisetsu may be scouring the area in search of him. And from what you’ve shared, it seems we’ll need to make haste towards the Rugalia Estate.” 

He points slightly northward, in the opposite direction from where they came from. “I saw an inn earlier while I was scouting out for your assailants. We could spend the night there.”

The journey to the inn is uneventful, Eisetsu and Obi walking quietly behind the other two. From the corner of his eye, Obi can tell that the tension from the conversation prior has not completely worn off judging by how Eisetsu’s shoulders are raised, how his arms are wrapped defensively around his body. Sighing, he grudgingly claps a hand on Eisetsu’s back. The man looks up at him, startled, and Obi attempts a kind smile - which probably ended up looking like a grimace. Nevertheless, it serves its intended purpose and Eisetsu smiles back, hands dislodging from their place at his elbows. Obi pats his back again for good measure and they continue their journey to their accommodation.

At the inn, Eisetsu and Tsuruba take the lead in speaking to the innkeeper while Obi hangs back with his Miss. She nudges him briefly, eyes sparkling. “This feels like that time when we had to stay at an inn with Zen and the gang.”

“Yeah, only now we’ll need to keep our guards up quite a lot more.” Obi thinks back to how it was unsaid for Mister to take up watch while the rest of them visited the baths. “Miss Kiki and Mister really spoiled us, didn’t they?”

Miss hums in agreement, mouth quirking to the side.  She leans a little into him and Obi has to resist the urge to place a hand on her head. She must miss them, he thinks. 

“-need lodging for four people,” Eisetsu’s voice rings out. “And towels and robes to spare, if you please.”

The innkeeper frowns slightly. “Ah, we’ve lodging for four - but only two rooms with a bed each. Assuredly they are large enough to hold two though! And towels and whatnot will be provided as paid.”

Their party looks at one another. Eisetsu turns back to the innkeeper.

“That’s fine,” he states. Tsuruba visibly tenses and Obi almost does a double-take. “Wait wait hold up hold up- Eisetsu-dono, let’s review the sleeping arrangements?”

Eisetsu huffs, fringe flying. “What’s the problem? Tsuruba-dono and I can share one room, and the two of you can share the other.” 

“Ah,” Tsuruba starts. “Um-”

“Bahh, you saved my life,” Eisetsu states, flicking his ponytail behind him. “There’s no reason for me to remain suspicious of you.”

“And us?” Obi bites out in annoyance. 

“What’s wrong? You didn’t have a problem being in the same room at the estate? If I recall, the rooms only had one bed - and assuredly, they were not meant to fit two.”

Obi feels Tsuruba’s gaze settle heavily on him and cold sweat begins to form at his brow. Ah, he thinks. He knows about the understanding between Master and Miss.

Just as Obi begins to sputter out the truth, Miss interrupts. “Y-yes! We did that! It’s fine - Obi, shall we? It’s been a long night, and-” Miss yawns, an obvious feint- “wow, I’m absolutely smashed!”

She waves them goodnight and walks off. Obi stares after her, mouth ajar. He turns back to the two, then back to his Miss’ retreating back. Caught between the need to explain everything, and following her up, he manages a, “I-need to protect- Miss!” before stumbling off after her. Obi briefly catches Tsuruba’s gaze sliding off them and Eisetsu waving his hand to shoo him off. Obi’s face feels terribly hot.

He quickly catches up with Miss and glares down at her, hoping that his eyes will communicate his absolute incredulity at the situation. What is she thinking?! Doesn’t she know the implications of what she’d suggested? 

Of course, Miss remains blissfully unawares, happily stopping outside their room, unlocking the door and wandering inside. Obi takes one look into the corridor before closing the door behind them.

Turning back, Obi sees Miss taking off her robe and placing it on the back of a nearby chair. Her hair falls out of the hood to frame her face, the ends curling slightly at her chin. Obi rubs an exasperated hand down his face. God, may he survive the night here.

Throwing his hands in the air, Obi exclaims, “Miss, we’ve no need to keep up with the ruse! At this point, I’m sure we can trust Eisetsu enough with the true nature of our relationship! He probably wasn’t serious with his advances on you anyway, judging by his story.”

Miss tilts her head, a thoughtful pout on her face. “Is there a need to tell him though? I feel like it may only cause more misunderstandings.”

“More- Miss, Eisetsu thinks we’re together! You’re promised to the Second Prince of the country! How is that not already a misunderstanding!”

“Well,” Miss begins to fold her cloak. “We did stay in the same room at his estate. If anything, that whole series of events was a consequence of being promised to said-prince. And the continuation of the ruse was to also hide the fact that Zen showed up at the estate - which, Eisetsu still has no knowledge about.”

Miss turns to him then, arms crossed, and Obi does not like that look. “Are we to tell Eisetsu that the Second to the Crown was traipsing around his estate with him unawares? He’s already told us how sensitive he is about his reputation. Think about what telling him would do to the poor man.”

“But-” Obi starts. Miss raises an eyebrow. 

Obi wants to scream. 

“Fine,” Obi concedes. “But if we’re meant to share the bed, I’m taking the left side.”

Miss smiles, triumphant.

---

“Obi?” 

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are you awake?”

A sigh- “I am now. What is it?”

Obi turns and finds Miss much closer than he anticipated. Alarmed, he shifts to the edge of his side of the bed and props his head on his hand, elbow pressing into the pillow. Miss seems to ignore his ministrations and looks deep in thought. Obi waits. 

“Obi,” she calls softly. “What did you think of Eisetsu’s story about Lady Kageya?”

Humming, Obi leans back and moves his arm behind his head. He stares at the ceiling. What did he think? 

“It’s...rather tragic, isn’t it?” Obi speaks slowly. He doesn’t say that their tale sounds eerily familiar. Doesn’t say that it rubs him the wrong way. Doesn’t say that it sounds an awful lot like what may happen- has happened- to his mistress and master. “Seems like Eisetsu really took a hit. Both in his relationship with Kageya and with his father.”

Obi lowers his gaze and watches as Miss’ fist clenches into the bedsheets, her face ducking behind the blankets. Staring at the crown of her head, red cascading over white, he laments at how in another life, Master and Miss may have it easier - an existence together - without all this talk of reputation, of titles, of rumors. It is a simple life he wishes for them; and it is a simple life they cannot have.

Obi offers what he can. “Miss, don’t worry,” he tells her with a soft smile. Lightly, he touches her fingers clasped tightly around white. She looks up at him, eyes teary. Obi’s heart breaks.

“Master will not forsake you like that.” His finger comes up to wipe away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “You are worth- so much more than reputation. Lest he send you away with coin, perish the thought.”

Obi hears Miss breathe in shakily. A part of Obi breaks for the two; years of memories apart, and miles and miles exist between them. Yet- yet. Another part of Obi seethes. He is incensed at the insecurity spurred and left to fester in his Miss by the reality of it all, and by the lack of assurance Master gives her. It’s one thing to allow the other space to work towards their goals. It’s another to entirely ignore the other, only corresponding through a middleman (he’s seen too many letters signed off by Mister), and turning up only to jeopardize said-goal. 

Miss buries her face deeper into the pillow, shoulder shaking. Exhaling heavily, Obi slots his arm under her and cradles her to him. Wet droplets immediately hit Obi’s skin at his neck and Obi tightens his hold on her.

“Shh...it’s okay. You’ll be fine.” Miss’ arms wind around his torso and she grips him hard. Obi’s hand comes up to stroke the back of her head. “Both of you will be, for sure.”

----

Dawn breaks. Obi’s eyelids are crusty and his eyes are just refusing to open. Not when it is so warm and lovely, and Obi just wants to ignore the light pouring into the room. Turning away from the window, he throws his arm over Miss, wrapping his body around hers. She whines a little, and Obi chuckles slightly behind closed lids, bending down to brush his lips against her fringe. 

A few seconds pass. Immediately, Ob’s brain wakes up and he shoots himself to the edge of the bed, short of falling off. Eyes wide, he stares, affronted, at his two hands positioned awkwardly in front of him, away from what isn’t his. 

Miss shifts and Obi freezes. Her eyebrows scrunch up at the sun rays and she buries her head deeper into the sheets. 

“Too bright,” she whines. Obi’s arms fall back onto the bed and he laughs. He pulls slightly at the blanket to reveal Miss pouting cutely, hair mussed in different directions. Suddenly, Obi’s chest feels too tight.

“Good morning, Miss,” Obi says, too soft.

Miss whines again and cracks open one eye to stare him unamused. Obi huffs out a laugh. She exhales roughly and props herself up with two hands on the pillow. Obi looks up at her as she rubs a fist over her eye, hand then stretching back behind her with a yawn. Her entire body slumps and she looks down at him again. With bleary eyes, she smiles down at him, dimples and all.

“Good morning, Obi,” Miss greets him, just as soft.

Obi’s legs immediately hit the floor. He turns away so fast he almost has whiplash. Something like this - this soft, vulnerable thing - isn’t meant for his eyes, isn’t meant for people like him. 

With his back to her, Obi states mechanically, “We should start getting ready. If it’s already this bright, Eisetsu and Tsuruba would be waiti-”

A touch at his hand and Obi pauses. Warily, he turns to Miss and is anguish to note that Miss looks as wonderful and angelic as she did moments ago. She tugs slightly at his wrist and Obi just follows, facing her fully. Her fingers play with his, intertwining and brushing against his palm, and Obi is just- burning. Soaking up all the warmth she offers, but just- incinerating on the inside.

“Thank you,” she tells him, squeezing gently. “For being here. With me.”

Obi’s heart lurches. His face has never felt so hot. Play it off, his mind screams. Play it off, play it off, play it off! And desperate, Obi completely bypasses the voice in his head and brings her fingers to his lips. He looks up at his Miss’ face, as red as her hair, and sees her lips forming into a pleased smile. Inch by inch, Obi reels back his heart, offered on a platter for the taking, and swallows down his unadulterated adoration for the woman in front of him. He sets her hand down, smiles, and finally pays heed to the shouting in his mind.

“For you and Master,” he says. For you, he doesn’t say. “Anytime.”

[skylarmoon71]

Tadashi Hamada (Short Story) Chapter 4 - Final

Your phone was buzzing non-stop, for a while you considered muting it. Since the little encounter with Tadashi, you started avoiding the University. Too many chances of bumping into him.

That was three days ago.

You didn't even talk to your brother about what happened, you were afraid he'd give you some lecture on how you needed to be careful around guys. It was endless. You knew Luke was only looking out for you, but you really liked Tadashi, and you didn't want his friendship with Luke to suffer because of your feelings.

"What do I do.." you didn't know. When you checked your phone there were multiple messages. Some from Honey Lemon, GoGo, even Fred. You laughed at his text, which he added a dragon emoji to emphasize his point. You scrolled down, spotting Tadashi's name on a few messages. You were scared to even open it.

You jolted at the knock at your door.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course Luke." he opened the door, stepping in slowly. He had a weak smile.

"Hey." He greeted. You smiled back.

"Whats up?" you questioned. His hands dropped in a sort of defeat.

"I'm sorry."

Why was he apologizing?

"Why are you..you didn't do anything wrong?"

"I talked to Tadashi. " you looked away.

"I-I uhh w-we didn't.." your words were coming out jumbled.

"You don't have to defend yourself (Y/N). That's why I'm sorry. I guess I just... you're my little sister. It's my duty to protect you. I've been blocking guys away from you ever since I could remember. " you chuckled, because it was true. The both of you went to high school together, Luke was only a year older than you. So when he left before you graduated he was a bit worried.

"Tadashi he...he really likes you. And I can tell that you like him too. He's a good guy, I think you should give him a chance, if that's what you want of course." your eyes watered.

"You really mean that?" he nodded, shoulders sagging.

"Yeah."

"But if he hurts you, so help me!" you laughed, hugging your brother. "I know Luke." Now all you really needed to do was tell Tadashi.

~~

The very next day you decided not to run anymore, you were going to face Tadashi. You walked into the University, hands a bit sweaty. "You can do this!" your mental encouragement was all you really had. When you got to Tadashi's lab you raised your hand, standing right outside his door. You clenched your fist, raising to knock on the door. A few inches away you froze.

"I can't do this.." your entire body was shaking. "(Y/N)?" you jumped, turning.

"T-Tadashi!"

So he wasn't even in the lab. There went any chance of you trying to run away.

Excuse time.

"I-I just came to get my brother's wrench. He said he left it here but you're probably busy so I'll come back later." you rambled out those words turning on your heel. Before you could fully escape he grabbed your wrist. Your entire form went rigid. "(Y/N), we need to talk." You knew you couldn't run, but at least you tried. Tadashi let go of your wrist, and you followed when he opened his door, urging you in. When the both of you were inside, he closed the door, turning to you.

You had no idea why you were getting so worked up, you weren't even sure he liked you that way.

"(Y/N) I...I'm sorry about what happened last time." you kept your eyes on your shoes.

"I-It's fine. I know you didn't mean anything by it. We're friends and you, you were being nice. S-Sorry for overreacting." He looked a bit frustrated, pulling off his cap and brushing his dark locks back with a sigh.

"You didn't overreact, and I wasn't just being nice (Y/N). I do think you're amazing and smart, caring, passionate, driven." with every word he spoke he stepped closer.

"Breathtaking.." he breathed.

Well, if you were expecting anything it wasn't that. There was barely any space between the both of you. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words would come out. Tadashi chuckled. "And so very cute." he added. "I care about you (Y/N), that's what I was trying to say, but I didn't realize that I made you uncomfortable." his head hung and he looked like he would step away. You reached for his sleeve. "N-No!" his eyes darted up, catching your stare.

"I-I wasn't uncomfortable. I'd n-never be uncomfortable with you Tadashi.." You could see the hope, gleaming behind his big brown eyes.

"I-I like you Tadashi, I-I think I've liked you since that time you brought my phone. I'm just no good with this whole love thing and my brother's really protective so I thought it would be better just being friends but then I couldn't stop thinking about you and then you said I was amazing so I was really happy and I-" you pulled in a deep breathe, after your long rant. Tadashi laughed under his breath, impressed at the amount of words you managed to let out before breathing.

"I like you too (Y/N)." you gazed at him in awe.

"R-Really!"

He nodded with a smile.  "Really."

You giggled, touching your cheeks, a bit giddy. "Wow.." you mumbled swaying from side to side happily. "I'm really glad." you confessed with the brightest smile you could manage. Tadashi's expression radiated the same amount of light.

His hands moved to yours that rested on your cheeks. Your eyes connected and you gasped when his lips met yours in a soft kiss. It took you awhile to process what was going on. When you did, you closed your eyes, leaning into him returning the kiss shyly. Tadashi held you close, guiding you to heaven with his lips that seemed to fit yours so perfectly. His tongue swiped your lower lip and you blushed, not sure what to do.

Tadashi nibbled on your lower lip, and you sighed, opening your mouth unconsciously. He made a noise at the back of his throat and your body trembled in response. Tadashi's tongue met yours and you shivered, whimpering slightly how foreign yet pleasant it felt. You'd never been kissed like this before. The last person you expected to know how to kiss so well was Tadashi. He always looked so pure, so innocent.

There was nothing innocent about what his tongue was doing right now. A few more heated seconds of liplocking and then Tadashi pulled back. His eyes fluttered open, staring down at your euphoric state. Your cheeks were flushed, lips slightly swollen, pupils dilated.

"Did you enjoy that as much as I did?" he questioned.

"Probably more.." you muttered. Your eyes were still trained on his lips. He'd just kissed you, but you wanted more. More of whatever he was just doing. You were hooked.

"Well, there is plenty more where that came from." He smirked, for the first time in your life Tadashi was wearing a devious look on his face. You swallowed.

Yep, he definitely wasn't as innocent as you originally thought.

[melancholic-pigeon]

WIP Wednesday #15

Since Jason's birthday is tomorrow and all, I'm doing something longer as a treat. A triptych, if you will!

Content warnings for child abuse and neglect, alcoholism and food insecurity.

Thalia wakes up, like she usually does, to Jason curled against her with his fingers in his mouth. She can't easily put him in his crib by herself, but her mattress is on the floor and there's nowhere for him to fall, so she can ensure that she's there to hold him whenever he wakes up crying. Her shirt's a little damp, but this time it's just because he's drooling in his sleep. Last night, thankfully, was free from disruptions.

For him, at least.

He's a year old today, and she hasn't seen their mother since two nights ago, slumped on the couch with an empty bottle of vodka on the ground next to her. The door to her room is closed. Whether she's in there sleeping it off or out somewhere getting drunker, Thalia has no idea.

Bitterly, she doesn't care. It's not like their mom cares about them, either.

Jason yawns, his hair sticking up like a cockatoo's feathers. The first eye contact of the morning always leaves him giggling and reaching for her, and the feeling of his small, warm body flopping onto her brings her focus back to where it should be.

"Happy birthday, shrimp."

"Happy," he repeats, nosing at her stomach.

It's up to her, like usual, so she gets him dressed and ready and gives him the last of the cereal to occupy himself while she digs through her closet to find the old coffee can she stashed there.

Every time she thinks she can get away with it, she lifts a bill from their mother's wallet and puts it in the can. Every nickel she finds on the street, every dime she pulls from the couch cushions; it all adds up, a little at a time.

After carefully saving as much as she could for the past few weeks, she's squirreled away enough. She takes out a fistful and stuffs it in her pocket, then re-buries the can under a pile of her laundry.

Today's special, and she'll cover the loss somehow— by sneaking some extra groceries under her coat again, if she has to.

Jason's finished with his breakfast by the time she emerges, sitting patiently and playing with the plastic dish she'd given it to him on. Her sweet baby brother, looking up at her with a smile so sunny you'd think they were living like kings.

Her chest feels tight and her throat's in no better condition. After a deep breath, she reaches down to grab his hands.

"Do you know what birthdays mean?"

He takes a second to think about it as she pulls him to his feet, then shakes his head.

"Birthdays, Jason," she says, grinning— it's harder to dwell when he's holding onto her hand— "mean birthday cake."

The gas station a block away at least has the miniature kind wrapped in cellophane. He won't know the difference, since he hasn't even been introduced to the concept of cake yet, but she'll still have to make it up to him with a real one someday.

—

By the time Jason turns two, Thalia has shoplifting down to an art form.

People are usually too busy fawning over how precious her brother is to pay her much attention, and having Luke along makes it almost easy. Jason adores him, and he's happy to draw focus away from her by translating the toddler babble and proclaiming that they're his favorite babysitting clients, which conveniently explains the lack of adult supervision.

Thanks to him, she's managed to get Jason something a lot better than cake.

She saw it in the window of a toy shop and immediately knew it was perfect, but it cost more than she'd scrounged in the past six months. She'd been resigned to the idea of stealing a brownie instead, and then last night, Luke showed up at her doorstep with it tucked under his arm and his face split into a wicked grin.

She's not sure she wants to know how he managed to smuggle it out without getting caught, but the way Jason lights up when he lays eyes on it, happier than she's ever seen him, is enough to make her ignore the uneasy feeling.

"Puppy!"

She can't help but mirror it back to him, her heart swelling with emotion as he flings his arms around the stuffed animal's neck. It's almost as big as he is.

"That's right. It's a wolf puppy. She's named after a mama wolf called Lupa."

The real Lupa is the matriarch of a pack living at a conservancy in San Diego county. Her likeness is an embodiment of the fiercely protective love Jason should have gotten from his own mother, and which has fallen to Thalia and her limited capabilities instead.

Jason rolls over, still holding tight to his new doll, and lays his head in her lap. If she's coming up short, he certainly hasn't noticed.

"My Lupa?"

He's gently petting the wolf's fur, in a movement that's strikingly similar to how Thalia's petting his hair. She blinks a few times to chase away the burning in her eyes.

"Your Lupa."

She can't give him the childhood that he deserves. It's a struggle to make sure even his most basic needs are met, and some days it feels like the whole world is united against them, but then he hugs her leg or curls up against her shoulder or tells her in that sweet voice love you, Taya—

And everything settles in her chest, refining itself into a white-hot determination.

She's all he has, and the one thing she can make sure he'll never want for is someone who loves him enough to fight for him.

She understands how the real Lupa must feel about her cubs. She knows, with more certainty than she's ever known anything, that if anyone so much as thinks about hurting her little brother— hurting her baby— she'll tear them to shreds with her teeth before they have time to run.

—

Everything is perfect. Thalia's made sure of it.

The party doesn't start for another hour, so she has to keep Jason occupied until then. He thinks she has lunch reservations and they're meeting at her place for coffee first— the second part is true; she has a pot of Kona ready to go as soon as he arrives.

While she's preparing his decoy surprise, the rest of his friends are in Manhattan, helping Percy and Sally get his bash underway. She finds herself quivering with excitement as she puts the last few touches in place.

The doorbell rings and she squeaks, shoving the main item behind a bookshelf before racing to answer the door.

"Happy birthday, shrimp." She stands up on her tiptoes and hugs him around the neck. "I have something for you."

Jason beams, pink, and squeezes her back.

"I told you last year that you don't have to get me anything. Your company is a gift in and of itself."

"Ha ha," she counters dryly, knowing he can hear her getting a little emotional at the sincerity on his face. "Very funny. Like I'm not going to try to make up for the ten of them that I missed."

She takes hold of his arm and pulls him into the apartment, past the kitchen to the hall that leads to her bedroom. She opens the door beside it, the one that used to be her study.

Jason's eyes go wide.

The desk is still there, but the chair is new, much larger than the one she used. The bookcase is the same, too, but she's put her video games in a box in her bedroom and filled the shelves with fresh sketchbooks and paints and pencils instead. The bed is new too, as well as the nightstand and the dresser.

Sally stripped and varnished all of the wood, and built a set of floating shelves that are currently storing a series of framed photos from Annabeth's camera reel. Piper decided on the paint colors— sky blue with a deep purple accent on the wall that slants to the ceiling. Leo took care of borrowing Jason's favorite sketches to make the framed prints above his bed, by pretending he was doing a photography project with them.

(He'd burst into laughter when she gave him Jason's baby drawings to frame too, and she'd almost punched him in the mouth— but then she'd noticed his voice was a little tight when he told her the crayon scribbles looked just like her.)

"Wow," Jason breathes, staring around the room as though he doesn't know where to land his focus. "This— is all of this for me?"

"Anytime you need an escape, you've got one. Think of it as your safe house. And there's one more thing."

Reluctantly, she steps away and retrieves what she hid earlier.

Jason's mouth drops.

"Lupa," he whispers, raising his hand. He stops himself halfway through reaching over, like he doesn't know if he should. "How did you find another one? I thought they were a limited run."

Thalia takes his hand, wrapping his fingers around the new doll's front leg.

"I traded twenty-seven ultra-rare mint-condition beanie babies for her with a collector in Montana."

"Do I want to know how you got twenty-seven ultra-rare mint-condition beanie babies?"

"It's not as sordid as you're thinking, I just spent a lot of time on Ebay."

Jason laughs, shaky, and sits down on his new mattress. He's probably not even conscious of the way he's running his thumb over Lupa's paw, exactly the way he did the first time.

He said that donating the original to charity was his idea, but Thalia has a suspicion he was pushed into it with a healthy dose of shaming and manipulation, and the look on his face— shocked, bright-eyed, a little scared like he thinks she'll disappear if he blinks— pretty much confirms it.

Thalia sits beside him and wraps an arm around his back. He slides down along the mattress until he's lying with his head in her lap.

"My Lupa," he says quietly, and she knows he remembers doing it before.

"Your Lupa," she chokes back. "For real, this time. Nobody's going to take her away from you, ever again."

It's different now, because Lupa is about the size of a two year old child, and Jason very much no longer is. She fits in the crook of his elbow, and he couldn't wrap his arms and legs around her if he tried.

Thalia tries not to think about all the nights between then and now that he's needed her, and didn't have her.

He smiles, wiser than his fifteen years.

(He's fifteen years old. God. She missed so much— thirteen months isn't long enough to even really begin to catch up.)

"I know they won't," he tells her. "You won't let them."

She's never going to get those years back. The only thing she can do is make sure she appreciates what she has now.

"I believe you would."

"I'll bite anyone who tries," she whispers back, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He bursts into laughter, reaching up to ruffle her hair like she used to do to him.

@perseusjackson-jasongrace @msdrpreist I still feel self-conscious about pinging people tell me if you'd prefer I didn't difjvhg

[ricksbowen]

one more time | pt. 6

IN WHICH: y/n goes out with ej, ricky’s feelings are too much to bear, y/n goes back to the root of her fear of love.

INSPIRATION: everything has changed — taylor swift ft. ed sheeran, atlantis — seafret

WARNING: this has implications of sex. this series is usually heated, but this part has no smut in it. but i will say that everyone here is 18+ and in their senior year.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6

i need help asap. come over

You sent Ricky that text an hour ago. Usually, he’d be at your house the moment he read it, willing to help out with whatever you needed help with. Usually, he read your texts with a hint of a smile gracing his lips, replying back with some stupid reaction meme he screenshotted off of Instagram.

But when Ricky read your text, his heart plummeted and his mood deflated.

He knew what you needed help with. You had told him everything about your date with Ej, from the time to the places he was bringing you. Dinner, then the movies, then to some of the rarest views in Utah. It sounded like a date that would’ve fallen out of a coming-of-age movie, and Ricky felt like the teenager who got screwed over in every corner.

He didn’t respond for an hour. Ricky kept his mind off of you by writing lyrics in his notebook, guitar in hand as he tried to sort his emotions out. He didn’t want to know what he was feeling, but he wasn’t stupid. Ricky wasn’t blind to the way his heart rate picked up when you laughed, or how an unstoppable smile lifted his lips when you told a terrible joke.

He wasn’t blind to the way he looked at you in a new way when you laid in front of him. You didn’t see it, thank God, but Ricky knew you were going to figure him out at some point.

Ricky prayed that when that day came around, you wouldn’t cut him out of your life.

It took an hour for him to finally drop his things and grab his skateboard. You didn’t live next door, but you lived in the same neighborhood as him. It was helpful for times like these, when one of you needed the other in times of toil ( though this was probably the opposite ).

Ricky walked up to your door, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He raised his fist, knocking at your door twice. He heard you cursing from inside, your footsteps loud at you practically tripped down the stairs. You threw open the door, and Ricky suddenly couldn’t breathe.

The black slip-on dress you wore fit you perfectly, gleaming against the setting sun from outside. Your hair was clipped back with two red clips, and the dangling earrings you wore matched the two necklaces that adorned your neck. Your face was only half done, the powder white against your cheeks as you gaped at him.

“Holy shit, what took you so long?” you asked with an exasperated look, unaware of his lovestruck expression. You reached for his hand, the simple action sending lightning running up and down his arms, and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him.

“I needed help with what I was gonna wear,” you explained nonchalantly, walking up your stairs. The lack of Ricky’s footsteps following yours made you turn to look at him with a frown. “Are you coming?” you asked, worry glazing over your eyes. “You’re being weird.”

The worried tone in your voice made him snap back into reality. He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he quickly kicked his shoes off and leaned his skateboard against the wall. “Right.” Ricky followed you up to your room, regret filling his stomach for even coming over in the first place.

“Anyway, I needed your help for what to wear,” you repeated, sitting in your chair and leaning forward to continue your makeup. Your room was a mess, with your clothes strewn every which way and shoes scattered on the colorful mess.

“Obviously,” Ricky murmured, observing the mess and making you snort.

“I found what I was gonna wear though,” you continued on, occasionally looking at him from your mirror. “But since I like you, lover boy, I’m letting you stay.” You grinned at him through the mirror, smile dropping at the disappointed look he had as he sat on your bed. Something was up; normally, he’d respond with his nickname for you, paired with a witty remark. But Ricky Bowen was being quiet, seemingly deep in thought as he stared at your floor.

“What you said that night when I called helped me out a lot.” Nothing. That didn’t get him to respond. “My parents don’t know I’m going out, so this night may be my last.” Nothing. “A girl asked me if you were single today and I said yes.”

Ricky frowned. But the girl wasn’t you.

You resorted to silence, your theories running wild in your head as you finished your makeup. You stood up, brushing off your dress and walking up to Ricky. Wordlessly, you took his hands into yours and held them. “Whatever is happening to you,” you started, making him look up at you. If you didn’t look beautiful before, you looked like a goddess now. “I hope you know that I love you. A whole fuckin’ lot.”

Not in the way he wanted you to.

“Really?” Ricky forced out past the dryness in his throat, the beaming smile you made making him turn into a puddle of feelings.

“Really. And you know I don’t like saying that, so,” you shrugged. “You must be pretty special.”

Ricky couldn’t help but chuckle at that, shaking his head to himself as he stood up. Your hands still held his, his warm ones clashing with your cold ones. “You’re something else, L/N.”

You shrugged yet again, the cheeky smile on your glossed lips bright. “I try. Hey—“

Your doorbell rang. You and Ricky sucked in a breath, both for terribly different reasons, and you pulled your hands away from his.

“Oh, God he’s here.” You rushed for your jean jacket, throwing it over your shoulders. “Fuck, I was so confident until I realized this is actually happening— can you get the door, please?” you asked, not looking up at you rummaged through your closet for your handbag.

The walk to your door felt like a walk straight into death, and Ricky found himself silently encouraging himself before he opened your door. Ej stood outside, a bouquet of crimson roses ( Ricky knew you preferred white ones ) in his hands and dressed in a simple white button-up and black jeans.

“You’re not Y/N,” Ej stated, making Ricky grin and shrug his shoulders

“No shit,” Ricky remarked, reluctantly opening the door wider for Ej. “She’s upstairs,” he said curtly, words short and cold as he let Ej in. Ricky shut the door behind him, pressing his back against it with a small sigh.

The sound of your bedroom door closing made both of the boys look up to your stairs. A grin appeared on Ej’s face at the sight of you walking down. Ricky only stared, mouth slightly agape. He saw you while you were getting ready, sure, but you still made him breathless. You had never radiated so much beauty, nerves, and excitement in your life.

“Wow,” Ej said, making you smile sheepishly as you pressed a small kiss to his lips. His arms snaked around your waist despite the flowers he had in his hands, smiling against your lips.

That hurt Ricky on a whole new level.

“Not too bad yourself,” you murmured, hiding your nervousness behind your confident comments. You looked at Ricky, smiling gratefully at him, yet not getting one back.

“I gotta go,” Ricky mumbled, words quick as he pulled his shoes on.

“Why?” you asked, still in Ej’s arms as you looked at him. “Ri, are you—“

“I’m fine,” Ricky snapped, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he grabbed his board. He saw the way your excited look dropped into hurt, but Ricky shoved off the guilt and opened your door. “Have a good time,” he forced out, slamming the door behind him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧⠀.

The sight of your profile picture asking for FaceTime yet again made him gulp nervously.

Ricky knew his outburst would raise your suspicions. He regretted it the moment he left, the image of you kissing Ej replaying over and over in his head like a movie. He knew he had to pick up the phone; not picking up would only make you question him more.

He pressed the green button, running a hand through his hair as he looked at the screen. Your face came up, your makeup still on your face and your dress replaced by a sweater and sweatpants. The usual smile didn’t appear on your face like it usually did; you were staring at him with worry.

“Are you okay?” you asked, gazing at him through the screen. “You kinda left in a hurry, and I thought—“

“I’m fine,” Ricky interrupted, knowing fully well that he was the opposite. He couldn’t let you know. He knew the way you’d react, how you’d cut all ties with him in fear of getting hurt yet again. “How was the date?”

“Pretty good! It felt good being out there with him,” you said with a slight smile, and Ricky immediately knew what came next.

“But?”

“But,” you drawled, shaking your head to yourself. “We both agreed that we were better off as friends. It felt weird,” you scrunched your nose in slight disgust. “Like, we were siblings. It just felt wrong.”

It was almost ridiculous how regretful Ricky felt for feeling relieved.

“I guess I’m a little happy. I mean, if it went somewhere it’d probably just end up broken,” you rambled, eyes set on the sleeve of your sweater as you picked at it.

Ricky frowned. Was this how you thought of every relationship? He never saw you as the pessimistic type ( in his opinion, you were more of a realist ), yet hearing you say that every relationship went downhill surprised him. “You can’t think of every relationship as that.”

“I’m not wrong,” you protested, eyes snapping up to him. “It always goes that way. Someone either falls out of love, break up, or they..” your voice trailed off, eyes blanking out for a second as you went into a ‘stare.’

“Cheat?” Ricky finished softly, making you tune back into reality and nod.

“Yeah. Cheat.”

“Luka! I got take out!” You set the food on his kitchen counter, looking down at your phone and laughing softly at the texts from the theatre group chat that you were added to ( despite the fact that you didn’t join the musical ). Luke gave you a key to his house ‘just in case,’ and while you normally didn’t use it, you only used it for surprises like this one.

The silence that followed after your yell made you furrow your brows. Normally, he’d come down the stairs at your voice, saying something along the lines of, ‘Wow, I love you,’ that would make you blush like a schoolgirl. But there was nothing that followed, and you found yourself walking up the steps of his stairs to try and find him.

“Luka?” your voice was hesitant as you peeked into the rooms leading up to his. But as you neared his door with each step, you heard a sound that made your face contort in confusion.

Moaning.

“Dear God, if he’s watching porn,” you muttered to yourself, walking up to his room and slowly opening it. You expected better, the belief of Luka being the perfect boyfriend strong in your mind as you opened his door.

The sight of Luka kissing another girl, her blond hair splayed all over his pillow as his hips moved from under the sheets sent your idea of him crashing down. He didn’t even see you, too engrossed in the beautiful girl he was hovering over as his speed picked up. Her perfectly manicured hand ran through his black hair, the action making you feel sick to your stomach as you watched. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, disbelief, shame, sadness, and anger washing over you in hard waves.

Luka saw you when you gulped. The girl below him let out a loud yelp, her hands rushing at his sheets to cover herself while Luka stared at you.

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, your hands making no effort in trying to wipe them off. You didn’t even realize you were crying, your eyes dead set on Luka’s shirtless form. He didn’t even try and protest.

“I,” you forced out, swallowing down the lump in your throat as tears pressed hard against your eyes. It was all too much, the want to cry and scream and hit him too much to bear, yet there you stood. Frozen like a deer in the headlights. “I wish you the best,” you muttered past your tears, turning away from them and slamming the door behind you.

You drove to Ricky’s that night. You were sobbing, tears falling down your face like a never-ending stream. You hit your hand on your steering wheel angrily, the realization that he never loved you back hitting you over and over. It had to be a joke to him. The days you spent in bed with him and out, laughing and kissing and playing around as if you were both the perfect couple. Everyone else thought you were.

If only they could see you now.

You rang Ricky’s doorbell, the wind blowing hard against you as you stood outside. The sun had already set, 11 PM hitting the clock as Ricky opened the door. His smile dropped at your tearful eyes.

“Y/N?”

You didn’t say anything, only falling into his arms and letting out a sob. You were a mess of tears and cries, your face buried into Ricky’s shirt as you let your emotions out. Ricky brought you up to his room, laying down on his bed and letting you move into his side, your head on his chest and his hands running through your hair.

It was 12 when you calmed down, the tears still falling yet no sound leaving you other than your sniffles.

“He cheated,” you mumbled, sniffing yet again and feeling Ricky tense up. “I saw them and— and heard their moans and I can’t get them out of my head,” you whispered, voice breaking as you spoke. Your arms were wrapped around him, holding him close to you as if your life depended on it.

“What’d you do?” Ricky murmured, silently scheming a revenge plan in his head. He looked down at you, heart breaking at the hiccups and sniffled you emitted.

“Wished them the best,” you replied. “Trash belongs with trash.” You felt a chuckle rumble up in his chest, the sound making a ghost of a smile appear on your lips. Silence washed over you both, the only sound being your small sniffles until you broke the silence. “Is this what love is?”

You sounded so innocent, so heartbroken asking the question, and Ricky quickly shook his head as he leaned down to press a kiss onto your head. “No. Love doesn’t leave you like this.” He sounded so sure of himself despite his past, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.

You gazed ahead of you, sniffing again.

You changed that night. Your mindset on relationships, on feeling, on love changed that night with one broken relationship, and a new fear bloomed. You were never the same after that night.

Ricky knew that.

————————— 𑁍༅ཾ༚ ————————

TAGS: @tomshufflepuff​, @myrandom-fandomlife, @softpeteparker​, @sarcarstic-space-weirdo​, @particularcth​, @lifes-a-party-youre-a-boy, @paniniirae, @supersouthy​, @jointherebellion215, @gabyer0309​, @hannarudick​, @broken-from-fandoms​, @complete-trash-101, @ssprayberrythings​, @raven-waheda, @timelordtardis​, @chubby-cheek-calum, @nicole-lynne​, @loserr-likeme​, @whoseblogsthis​, @stxfxniexreads, @cherrydolan​, @allaroundaddict, @of-outerspace​, @blueevelvt, @kitykatnumber, @rocketdolans, @givemebooksorgivemedeath, @80sthottie, @lawstudentbydayfangirlbynight​, @cynthia060​, @hollandary, @kitykatnumber​, @hueycat2004

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter Five (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 4k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

It’s really funny how they set a uniform to wear for the private session with the gamemakers. They haven’t really done that before, and you know that because of your years of mentoring. They don’t have a set outfit that they want the tributes to wear. Sure, they have guidelines, but nothing this strict.

It’s a tracksuit jacket that goes up to your throat. You zip it up all the way, squinting at yourself in the mirror, because this wouldn’t have been your first choice for a uniform. You don’t look too terribly bad, it’s just the fact that you’ve never worn something so… hideous.

Despite this all, you pull your hair out of your face again, it’s even messier than it has been the past three days for training. Progressively, you’ve begun to care less about what you look like. You’ve been zeroing in on as many skills as you can gather like a hoarder. You spent the first day just training, and the last two days learning the useful stuff. The shit they don’t teach in the academy.

It was a good couple of days, even if you were forced to make conversation with the hogs of the stations. The good news is that Cecelia is much more tolerable than Woof. Woof is incompetent, the man will die in the bloodbath. He doesn’t move fast, he doesn’t think straight, and he’ll be a target for you.

You weren’t expecting very much out of him in the first place. He goes right onto the list of the other imcompetent competitors. The list has tripled past your expectations. These games are going to be a walk in the park.

Brutus is already waiting in the main room when you get out there. He’s got an orange in his hand, already peeled. He looks up when you enter, and without a word, stands and heads for the door. This afternoon, Neysa and Edmond will be nowhere in sight. You haven’t seen Theo in days, but that’s no matter.

Neysa and Edmond will be consulting with the stylist to make sure that the interview outfits are matching. Amias is already working with whoever is working with Brutus, but it’s for more understanding. Neysa knows what you would like to wear, and Edmond will have an idea for what Brutus would like.

Brutus holds out a single orange slice.

You prick it from his fingers popping it in your mouth. When you bite down, the juice explodes in your mouth. It’s sweet, a little tangy. You don’t pride yourself with oranges, since they’re such a rare thing to come across in District Two. You guys might be rich and a favorite, but it doesn’t mean you get everything that you desire.

The elevator brings you down to the same floor you’ve been for the past three days. The ride is short, the doors open, you guys step out and head towards the room where you’ll be waiting to be called in. This shouldn’t take very long. After everyone gets inside the room, it’s only three people before it’s your turn.

Walking in, there’s only a couple of people here already. A few of which you’ve actually talked to, during your time of rotation in the training room. Cashmere and Gloss already sit by the wall up front, so you allow Brutus to go in first, since you’ll be sitting on the end of the row.

There’s three rows of four to fit all twenty-four of you in here. The way that things are laid out in here kinda make sense, but you wish that they had allowed District Two to be up against the wall. You’d rather be leaning against the cold concrete while your body is beginning to heat up.

You’re not mad, you’re not embarrassed, this is something that doesn’t belong to you again. It could very well be nerves, again. Since it basically feels the exact same as it did last time…

Maybe the jacket is too much, because there is no reason why you should be feeling like it’s ninety degrees because you’re anxious. You unzip it, and then slip out of the jacket. The second that it’s done though, there’s a whistle behind you.

Gloss turns to look to see who it is, but it doesn’t take a genius to know who’s going to keep harassing you. It’s Finnick, and he’s probably just come in here with Mags. You haven’t turned around since you got inside, mainly because you don’t care who comes in or out. You just want the room to be full already so this show can get started.

“Welcome to the gun show.”

“I really can’t wait until I can knock your fucking teeth out.” you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it.

Finnick laughs, “I’m not that bad.”

“You are that bad.” you say, “I still don’t know what your goal is.”

“I thought we could be friends.”

“You thought wrong, my friends are sitting right here.”

Brutus snickers but doesn’t say anything, you can practically hear him ask, ‘we’re friends?’

If he’s thinking that, then so are Cashmere and Gloss, but they’re clearly smart enough not to say anything about it. At least they have some intuition that’s telling them that you don’t want to be talking to Finnick. And the best way to escape a conversation is to set grounds, even if they are lies.

“Who says you have to stop there?” Finnick asks.

“For fuck’s sake, just leave me alone.”

If Finnick has anything else to say, he gives it up. The silence is instant, and you welcome it in with open arms. Besides from the occasional ‘whoosh’ of the automatic doors, or the whispers of tributes talking to each other, the room is quiet. 

In no time, the room is full of all the tributes, and Gloss is being called in for his evaluation. As the clock ticks, you can feel yourself grow more anxious. It’s like a bottomless pit in your stomach, or as if you’ve been told that you’re being broken up with. It’s more of a grief feeling.

It’s awful, you don’t like it.

You look down at your wrist, reading over the words again. You run your thumb over them as if they’ll wipe off easily. Of course, they don’t budge even in the slightest. The whole idea of soulmates is crazy.

It’s a dumb concept. Who says that you have to end up with them, anyway? There’s plenty of people that you know, that never followed the rules because they didn’t care. There’s also the fact that you never know if that person is actually alive. It’s not like they fade after the person dies. They’re still as brand new as the day you got them.

You always thought that you’d be able to just overcome it, but with your repelling personality, no dice. That’s fine, you don’t like anyone, anyway. You’ll be content enough to live out the rest of your life in District Two, with two kids--Tanith and Zavian. One who won’t leave you alone, and the other won’t bother to visit.

You won’t be alone forever, you have them, and the occasional person who’s ballsy enough to visit you in your big, old, grand house. And if you can find a single animal you could get as a pet, you’d consider having them around, too. Turn your whole house into a zoo, like the old man that used to live next door, back when you weren’t a victor.

His house was overflowing with animals. Dogs, cats, he had two horses, a cow and a mule in his backyard. In his house were the chickens, goats and pigs. His house was covered in hay and smelt like piss and shit because he never cleaned it. He was too old and too stupid to be running something like that. However, you think he got taken down two years after your win. You went to visit your old house for a few things that you’d remembered that you wanted to move in and the house was just… gone. Like a controlled fire had taken it out.

You can’t say that you feel bad for him, he’s the entire reason why the street smelled so bad. In an upper-class neighborhood like yours, you’re surprised the neighbors hadn’t taken him out any earlier. He’s also the reason why you never opened the windows or doors for more than ten minutes… and why you never went in the backyard, either.

Brutus’ name is called. You fist-bump him, “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” he says.

Cashmere passes him on the way in, she gives you a dainty smile, and then continues her walk out of the room. It’s Brutus, and then it’s you.

“Is The (Y/n) Rosecelli nervous?” Finnick asks.

“I’m not.”

“You’re bouncing your leg like you’re trying to get it to fall off.” 

You hadn’t even realized it. You stop immediately, leaning into your hands as you rub your face, “I’m not nervous, someone else is.”

“Someone else?” 

You look over your shoulder at Finnick, “As much as playing stupid looks on you, don’t start now.”

Finnick is quiet, and then he sputters out a laugh, “You have a soulmate?”

“Everyone does. Mine just happens to be emotional, which is a total drag.” you hiss, “I don’t need to be feeling like this right now.”

The urge to bounce your leg again is like an itch, and you can’t help but to give in.

“I heard taking deep breaths are a fantastic way to calm yourself down.”

You ignore Finnick, it’s not your emotion. You’re confident. You’re excited. You’re enthusiastic. You’re calm. You have nothing to be worried about. You’re going to do great.

You can feel it all start to cease.

You’re an amazing fighter. You’re going to get great scores. You know what you want to do. You’re going to win. You’re the best one here.

One deep breath in, slowly letting it out, it’s like the anxiety wasn’t even there in the first place. Your leg stops, you cross them to ensure it, and continue repeating things to yourself. A much needed ego boost to keep your hands from shaking and your mind from collapsing.

Whoever your soulmate is, you’re beginning to hate them. They’re fucking up basically everything. It’s embarrassing, and you’re never embarrassed.

“Wow--”

“Zip it.” you snap, eyes focused on the door.

“District Two, (Y/n) Rosecelli. Report for individual assessment.” the voice over the intercom says.

You uncross your legs, throwing your jacket over your arm as you stand. You move out of the aisle and head towards the door. On the way in, you see Brutus with a grin on his face.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” you say.

You pull the jacket on now, zipping it up to your throat, because the room is air conditioned. With no one being in here, it makes the room colder. There’s no body heat to be worrying about. Even with the jacket on, you can still feel the cold air through it. 

You stand in front of the gamemakers, looking up at them. Plutarch Heavensbee--the new head gamemaker after the last one was killed. Word travels between mentors and victors like disease. Obviously it had to do something with the berries that Katniss and tried to eat. The fact that they were inside the arena in the first place was heinous enough. But to use it against the gamemakers, and Crane allowing it to happen…

“You have ten minutes to present your chosen skill.” Plutarch says.

You give a quick nod, wandering over to the nearest hologram station. You got to play around with it on the first day, and realized that going up to the hardest mode wasn’t even hard. It was medium. You broke a sweat after doing it for the third time in a row, and the gamemakers have definitely seen you mess with it before.

They have to assess you over a period of days, not just one. The private session is designed to show off anything that you wouldn’t want the other tributes knowing.

Which is exactly why you skip over all the regular throwing stations, and head right into the bow and arrow one. They have their own tv holograms that they’ll be able to watch you from. 

It’s not a skill you necessarily like. It helps with distance fighting, but since bow and arrows have been associated with Katniss, you’ve basically faded this into nothing. However, you pick up the bow, playing around with the strings to test the tightness. A quiver of arrows is pulled over your shoulder after.

You program the game easily, but before you step in, you turn around and fire an arrow just to see how awful the bow is. It’s not too bad, it’s actually fairly similar to the one they have at the academies. These ones are just tighter because they’re brand new.

You go inside after that. The holograms start off fairly easy. Now that you’re inside, you can see why it was so easy for Katniss to know where they’d be coming from before they were generated. The way that the orange beams move is a clear giveaway.

It takes one arrow for each person, always the center of the chest. If they’re moving, then you make an exception for the head, since it’s the next best thing to wipe someone out immediately.

You can feel yourself go into concentration mode. The beam moves, you spin around. You release the arrow at first chance, nailing the hologram. You grab another arrow, the beam moves, you spin around, release the arrow, get the hologram. Over and over until it’s finally done.

You wish you had some sort of watch so you could know when your time is up, but you decide that this is enough. You place the bow back where it came from, as well as the quiver, which has three arrows left. The arrows inside of the station will be cleaned up by some poor avox, it’s not your job.

You step right in front of the gamemakers again, waiting for them to dismiss you. When they do, you thank them, and then leave the room. You can hear them call in Beetee next, and you pass him on your way out too. Just before you also leave the little waiting room, Finnick and you make eye contact.

And on his face is a half-smile, half-smirk.

--

You plop down on the couch, leaning back against the cushions. Caesar Flickerman introduces the name of the game: tribute training scores. The entire couch is full. From right--where you’re sitter--to left, it sits Amias, Neysa, Edmond, Brutus and Brutus’ stylist. On the adjacent chair sits Theo.

He won’t look in your direction, it’s humorous.

Caesar starts it almost immediately, beginning with boys. Gloss lands himself an eleven, and Cashmere gets herself a ten, which makes you wonder how badly she messed up during her session. She’s supposed to be a career, not some average moron. Anyone with basic capabilities can get a ten.

Next is Brutus, he gets a nice eleven, which makes you all cheer for him in excitement. You want to hold your breath for your own, but you realize that’s not a reaction you would have. So, instead you give a big smile and lean back, crossing your arms. Confidence will get you out of this.

“District Two, (Y/n) Rosecelli with a score of eleven.” He gives a big smile, and you give a look to Brutus.

“And that is how it’s done!”

Brutus laughs, the two of you lean over for high-fives before going back to watching Caesar. Beetee and Wiress get boringly sad and average scores, but there’s not much to expect from them either. They didn’t do anything that would be entertaining over those three days. They get sevens.

The smile fades from your face once Finnick comes up. Your face straightens out and you lean forward. Brutus notices this, “Interested?”

“I gotta know how easy he’ll be to kill.”

“District Four, Finnick Odair with a score of eleven.” Caesar says, “And District Four, Mags Flannagan with a score of six.”

Finnick’s score is no surprise, but you are a little worried over Mag’s. She could have at least gotten a seven considering she did just about the same that Beetee and Wiress did. You suppose it makes sense in a way, though. She’s not going to be a good fighter, and they have to consider that too.

At least you and Finnick are on the same playing field, but he’ll be torn between protecting himself and Mags. You don’t really want to be the one to kill her, but another matching pair of District Four skulls on your arm is just too tempting.

You bring your arm over, looking at it as Caesar announces the next scores. You’ve got quite a collection. You didn’t kill any of District One’s tributes, but you did kill your district mate because it had come down to you two. If you want to keep traditions, Brutus would have to go on too. You wonder if he knows that part of your history.

It skips over District Three, but you got both from four. None from five or six, but you got the doubles on seven, the guy from eight and the girl from ten--oh, and the girl from twelve that had ran into the cornucopia like a dumbass. The total comes out to eight, which really is quite a lot.

Except that year a ton of people had ran into the cornucopia, more than usual. The girls from ten and twelve, and the boy from four had run in. As for the other five, that same day you took out the boy from eight. Your allies had taken out others, since they wanted at least something they could take credit for. 

Four on the first day, and the other four in the span of a week. You were the one with the most kills, you were showered with gifts. No one really stood a chance, not even your district mate. You kept track of the tributes throughout the entire game by carving lines into your arm. The second that the twenty-second guy was dead, you turned on your mate immediately.

It was too quick, it had taken the gamemakers by surprise. The way you turned, grabbed his head with one hand and used your sai’ to stab right through. He crumpled to the ground like a sack of flour, and you stood in the middle of that field, waiting for your crowning.

An entire minute of silence, which made you doubt that you were the winner. You had to count the cuts on your arms to double-check. You had done it each time after you’d heard a cannon, it should be accurate. And while you waited for them to announce your win, after you were sure it was yours, you made that final line.

Obviously they had wanted some fight, looking back on it. The final two should have been easy entertainment, and even sentimental, considering you guys were both from District Two. But there was no hesitation, you were already exhausted from fighting the last guy, and you just wanted it to be over with.

The reason behind why you’d chosen to wipe out the District Four tributes is funny, in some sick way. Of course, your games were right after Finnick’s, and you absolutely hated the way he won. Using his nets to drag people into the water and then uses his trident on them.

It’s the entire reason why you spared nothing for either of the four tributes. You didn’t even fuck with them a little bit like your allies had wanted. You killed them, and you made sure that the cannon had gone off before you’d even bothered to move on. You were so paranoid that they would try something like Finnick had done, again.

As much as people don’t want to admit it, you pay attention to things. Your brain is always turning. You’re keeping track of things, remembering plans and techniques. If you come up across anyone inside of the games, then you’ll know how to act. What they favor more in fights and all that. Not to mention, people like the morphlings and where they like to hide in the trees, what they’re looking for specifically.

It’s a whole ‘nother reason why you’re a perfect candidate. You’re prepared.

Anyway, districts five and six both get that same average score as three. Johanna Mason lands herself a nice ten, and her district mate Blight gets a nine. Not surprising for Johanna, but it is for Blight. Normally guys get higher training scores--and that’s not a sexist thing either.

It’s how your first games went. You had gotten a nine, and it must have been something you’d done during your training days. Unlike other districts, the careers aren’t really told to keep from showing off their skills. In fact, you’re encouraged to. It’s an intimidation tactic to weasel out the weaklings.

And you’re typically ordered to pick your favorites that look like good allies, and after private training day--which is then when you’re able to see the score--you send a formal request for them to be in the alliance. It’s a whole thing, more trouble than it’s actually worth, and it doesn’t happen very often because of it.

District eight through eleven get mainly average scores, there’s a few who stand out more than the others. And then it hits District Twelve.

“District Twelve--” Caesar’s face twists unexpectedly, “--Peeta Mellark, with a score of twelve.”

“What?” you nearly yell, pushing yourself up into a better seating position, “How?”

“That’s--”

“District Twelve, Katniss Everdeen with a score of twelve.”

“That’s impossible.” the blood must have drained from your face, and there’s a faint feeling that overcomes you, “No, no--no!”

No one has ever hit twelve. Twelve is the highest and one is the lowest. People have gotten close to twelve, clearly. You’ve got an eleven and a few others do too, but twelve…

“What did Katniss say to our alliance invitation?” Brutus asks, “Neysa!”

Neysa looks worried too, “Uh--Haymitch told me that she said no, or that she was at least thinking about it.”

You allowed Brutus to send in that request after watching Katniss shoot those arrows, but it was only Brutus that was asking. You weren’t included in it. Had Katniss said yes, she would have been dragged into the alliance altogether, whether you like it or not, you would have had to make friends.

And there’s a very good reason as to why she probably said no. It’s the alliance thing with Finnick, isn’t it?

You pucker your lips, “Neysa I need a moment with you.”

She looks over at you, Caesar Flickerman has long since been forgotten. She nods a little bit, everyone else in the living room looks confused as to why you couldn’t have just said it in front of them too.

You bring Neysa as far as you can manage without making it suspicious. Even then, you’re dropping your voice to a whisper, and turning your back to the living room so Brutus won’t be able to read your lips.

“What is it?”

“Tell the District Four mentors that I want to be allies with Finnick,” you say before you can catch yourself and change your mind, “And I don’t mean for him to join us, I mean for me to join them.”

“Them?” Neysa looks suspicious.

Shit, “Finnick and Mags. What else would I have meant?”

It was a smooth recovery, enough to get her off your back.

“You’d just leave everyone like that?” Neysa doesn’t like this, you can hear it in her tone of voice, “It’s just as much of a dumb idea as running solo is--”

“I just want to see what he says, I don’t have my mind set in stone.” You give her a look, “Neysa, come on.”

“Fine, but you will tell me your plan if it works out like you’re envisioning.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you out of the loop.” You tell her.

“Is there anyone else?” she asks.

You think for a moment on who would be dumb enough to accept but smart enough to do it too. A light bulb then goes off, “Peeta Mellark.”

[smol-and-grumpy]

Sky Full Of Stars - CH04

Sequel to Something Just Like This

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks he’s hilarious (she doesn’t agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life won’t come knocking at their door.

Warnings: NSFW, fluff, a dash of angst

WC: 3413

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean’s on pin and needles. He’s trying to be as quiet as he can when he walks around. Y/N’s pissed and each one of his movements could trigger her wrath.

She’s well overdue. If she was a steak, she'd be more than well done, and would taste like soles of his shoes. 

It has been a week. A fucking full week. Seven friggin’ days. Her due date came and went and with that, her patience. Even more so, after Jess gave birth and they’ve been over to Sam and Jess’ house for a visit.

The baby clearly is in no rush but Y/N’s patience is on thin ice, and so is Dean because apparently, he put her in the situation in the first place.

After thirty-six weeks, she decided that she’s had enough and wishes her bump away. She was actually sure that the baby will come before its due date, was dead set that it’ll come to them something after thirty-eight weeks because she said that if she gets any bigger, the only thing she’ll be able to do is roll around and she won’t need him to drive her to the hospital because she’d be rolling there. Dean smirked at the vivid image in his head and that wasn’t really his best move because she was so mad, she made him sleep on the sofa. 

They’ve tried everything that should trigger the birth and help along, too. 

He cooked spicy food, which she upped up and made it so spicy that Dean ended up having contractions instead of her. 

He’s been to a twelve mile hike with her this morning and now he’s exhausted but she keeps on going, walks up and down the stairs so often that Dean’s sure the wood will have holes and he needs to fix it while she’ll still be in the hospital.  

Dean’s sitting in a recliner, and tries to be invisible, he doesn’t need to trigger her anger today. 

After a while she stops pacing around up and down the stairs and Dean thinks it has started. 

“Baby? Is it—”

“—No.” Her voice is still grumpy, but it has been grumpier so Dean takes it, “I’m taking a bath.”

She goes up, and stomps on the landing.

“Do you want me to jo—”

She slams the door.

“—in you.” Dean finishes his sentence in a mumble. 

He sighs, rubs his hand over his face, strokes at his scruff and lets himself sink into the seat. He closes his eyes, for a brief moment, he probably has to go check up on her, but now he needs a fucking minute to himself. 

Dean doesn’t know how long he closed his eyes for, it feels like minutes, but Y/N’s standing before him in nothing but a towel, dripping wet.

She pouts. And the effect of her pout should be wearing off after such a long time, doesn't it? Well, it doesn’t because he’s still so fucking weak whenever he sees that pout.

He doesn’t say anything though, doesn’t really know what to say because he doesn’t know if she’s going to unleash her wrath or start to cry. 

So he waits.

Y/N walks closer on her bare feet, places her hands on his thighs. “‘M sorry,” 

His lips curve into a smile then, because he knows the storm is over for the time being. It has been like that for a couple of weeks now and Dean tried to understand her point of view. Tried to think how he would feel carrying around excess weight that’s so heavy it makes it hard for him to breathe. So in other words, he totally gets why she’s so done with all of it. And she can be angry at him all she wants, he said they’re going through this together and they will. Even though it’s just the beginning.

And even if she’s angry and has no other outlet than him, he takes it. Take everything she gives him because at the end of the day, she’ll almost always come around and tell him how sorry she is. 

“Come ‘ere,” He says, pats his lap.

She climbs in, places her knees next to his thighs and nudges her face into the crook of his neck, noses at his scruff. She’s dripping wet but he doesn’t really mind, hugs her, and kisses the top of her head. “Rough day, huh?”

“Uh-huh,”

“I know.”

He rubs along her thighs and she sits up a little straighter. She’s not too heavy, still fits into his lap perfectly and Dean wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

She leans down to kiss him and Dean has to crane his neck a little, meeting her half way because of the bump.

“You know,” She says, her hands play with the collar of his shirt. “I’ve been a dick to my fiancé.”

“Have you?” He frowns a little but hides the fact that he’s excited that she uses the word fiancé because it’s the first time he hears it out of her mouth. 

“Yeah, he’s been nothing but supportive but I’m having a hard time and I let it out on him.”

“That’s understandable.” His hands squeeze and knead her thighs.

“He doesn’t deserve to be threaded like that, though. I hope he still loves me.”

“Baby,” Dean whispers, pulls her down by the back of her neck to kiss her. “I can never unlove you. You should know that by now.”

“I love you,” She kisses him again, deep, more demanding and Dean tries, he really tries to be good but he can’t hide the fact that only a kiss of her turns him on so much. He’s growing hard awfully fast. 

And it doesn’t go unnoticed because she has a button somewhere either, is so goddamn responsive that it’s sometimes hard for him to catch up to her. She grinds down on his cock, moans a little into his mouth. 

“We haven’t tried one thing yet,” Y/N whispers against his lips.

“Baby, no.” 

The last time Dean fucked her was almost two weeks ago and he also said on that last time, that he won’t fuck her anymore until the baby’s here. She cried and thought that he said it because he doesn’t find her attractive anymore when it’s only reason was because he doesn’t want to hurt her. He tried to explain and it took almost a night for him to get her to believe him.

“Please? It could help.” She pouts again and Dean could club himself over the head because his willpower is hanging by a fucking thread.

It doesn’t really help that she unknots the towel around her body, lets it drop to the floor, making him fucking drool. Her nipples have darkened, are bigger, her tits fuller. She uses her body as a knife to cut through the thread his willpower’s hanging on. And that, Dean thinks, is not fucking fair.

How could she even think that he doesn’t find her attractive when the evidence is visible in his pants. Hard and throbbing, aching to be freed.

The bump makes her attractive too. There’s a life growing inside of her. A life growing out of something he planted in there.

Y/N plays with the waistband of his sweats, her fingers dip into the elastic of his underwear and Dean’s hands come up to play with her nipple, to knead at her tits.

“Please?” She moans and honestly, how can Dean say no to that?

“Okay,” He gives in, and adds, “But you can stop any time, alright? If it hurts or it gets uncomfortable, stop, you understand?” 

She nods her head so fast Dean thinks she’ll get a whiplash. 

He leans back a little, “Go on, take it out,”

The smile of her face is so sweet and beautiful he has the feeling that he’s going to burst. 

Taking it out, he helps her a little by lifting his ass so she can bring the fabric past his balls. And then he realizes that he probably should take her to bed, should spread her out, should fucking lick her open, the whole nine, “Baby, we should go up,”

“No, I can’t wait,” She grinds harder, her hands now fisting his cock and Dean’s strangely okay with that because he doesn’t know if he would have the patience to wait until they’re up the stairs when all he wants is to be inside of her. It has been two fucking weeks after all.

She lays his cock down and spreads her pussy lips on it, rubs her clit along his shaft, smears her slick around his cock.

Still a fucking tease, always was, always will be.

Dean places his hands on her ass, it itches him to spank her but he doesn’t. Instead, he helps in guiding her, it’s really the only thing he can do because she’s in the driver’s seat, he’s only sitting shotgun and the driver gets to pick the music.

It might have just been five minutes at most, but Dean’s slowly growing impatient. “Baby, if you really want me to fuck you, you better hurry up, I’m dying here.”

Y/N chuckles, leans down to kiss him before she pushes herself up on her knees, places his cock at her entrance and proceeds to slowly impale herself on it. 

She does it so agonizing slow that Dean feels every crease, every bump inside her tight walls. 

“Fuck,” He breathes out, barely able to hold himself together as she works herself lower, making him go deeper.

He wants to tell her not to go too low, wants to tell her not to sit down fully, but his voice doesn’t leave his throat, gets logged in there because all he can do is groan out when she sits so low, his balls are touching her ass crack.

Her hands are braced on his chest and she throws her head back, moans with him. She doesn’t even move, just sits there as her cunt flutters and cramps down on him and it’s all it takes for him to make that jump over the edge. He shuts his eyes, bucks up into her while her pussy’s still convulsing around him. 

“Wow, you came,” She chuckles, “I barely did anything.”

“Shut up, you did too. Couldn’t help it, you felt so good,” He’s out of breath, “But I’m still fucking hard. So go on, knock yourself out.”

It’s no fucking lie. He rarely could go twice before. But with her, it’s often the case. He doesn’t know how she does it but he doesn’t complain. 

She starts to ride him, fucking herself on his dick. She’s so wet with all the cum running down his shaft, it feels so goddamn perfect, Dean’s not sure how long he can last this time.

He rubs at her clit, and she starts to fuck him harder. It isn’t long until she comes again and somewhere after her second orgasm, it felt awfully wet down there. His sweats and underwear are drenched.

“Baby,” Dean groans, tries to hold out his pending orgasm. But it’s nearly impossible because she comes again, her walls milking at his cock, takes every drop of him that he’s able to give her.

“Fuck,” 

Dean hears her swear but he’s still zoned out from his last orgasm, and when he opens his eyes, she looks at him in shock. 

“Shit,” It’s now that he realizes it. “Are we?” 

She nods with a grin.

“Now?”

Another nod.

“Fuck, I need new pants,” He lifts her up, places her feet on the ground and pulls his pants up to be able to run when he speeds upstairs.

Y/N follows him but waits at the foot of the stairs. 

Dean quickly changes his pants and underwear, didn’t even drop the soaked ones into the hamper because there’s just no time.

“Get my dress,” She calls up and Dean grabs the dress that’s hanging by the door for four fucking weeks already in case they need to up and leave and she needs something to get in easily.

He runs down the stairs and is already halfway down when she says, “Dean, the bag.”

“Oh, bag, yeah.” Dean turns around again.

“But you can give me the dress.” 

He throws it in her face, hears her chuckle as he runs up to get the bag they have packed — also for four weeks already.

Coming down the stairs she looks up and he knows that he forgot something again.

“Towel?”

“Right,” Dean realizes, “Go and wait in the car.”

*

Her contractions start on their way there and the interval between them gets shorter the closer they get to the hospital. She’s squeezing at his hand and for such a small person she’s awfully strong. Dean has to bite down on his lips to not cry out whenever there’s a hard squeeze.

“You okay?” He asks when he feels her squeezing exceptionally hard.

“I’m not!” She’s panting, breathes the pain away, “Do I look like I’m fucking okay?”

Wow. 

Dean shuts up.

“‘M sorry,” She apologizes. When the pain’s gone it’s like she’s a whole different person. “Please whatever I say, don’t take it personally.”

“It’s alright, I get it.” Dean places her hand to his lips, kisses it.

“It’s all your fault, you know,”

Dean raises an eyebrow, “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”

“Yeah, you put that thing in me and now I have to go through this.”

“Baby,” Dean circles his thumb on the back of her hand. “Everything’s gonna be okay, alright? I promise.”

“I’m scared—oh fuck!”

Another contraction, Dean bites it out.

“Promise me something?” She’s still cramping and hisses through gritted teeth.

“Anything,”

“If something goes wrong and they take the baby away to do whatever they need to — you go with the baby. Don’t worry about me, alright?”

“Y/N,” Dean swallows. He really doesn’t want to think about that. The chance of things like these happening is so small.

“Promise me, Dean.”

“Okay, alright. I promise,” He says, seals his promise with a kiss on the back of her hand. 

 *

 They’re waiting in the birthing room, and she has changed into a hospital gown that leaves her backside wide open. She’s hooked to a machine but she paces around — apparently it helps with the pain — pushing the machine everywhere with her. 

He wonders if she’s going to be mad if he took a picture. 

Yeah, she probably will, so he abandons the thought.

It’s two hours later when things start to get interesting. Her cervix dilated a full 9cm and the head’s already poking out. Dean only knows it from the doctor though, and didn't really see it with his own eyes. 

Apparently he’s not allowed to watch because it could scar him for life. 

They certainly don’t know him. 

Honestly though, he doesn’t know if he would want to see it even if he would be allowed. It’s not that he thinks it’s disgusting, he just thinks he’ll probably faint because he can barely keep himself upright next to her, has to brace his elbows on the bed, because his legs feel wobbly. 

He brushes the sweat away from her forehead, strokes her hair back and kisses her. Her hand squeezes down on his again and Dean’s not complaining even though his hand feels numb. But she’s going through a lot more pain than he is, so he should fucking suck it up.

Dean tries his best to help her, breathes with her in between pushes, brushes her sweat away, talks her through it whenever she thinks of giving up and thinks that she can’t make it. 

“Got it!” The doctor shouts and a nurse rushes to her aid, places the newborn onto a blanket and rubs it clean, it starts to cry immediately. 

And in that moment, when the crying hit Dean’s ear, that’s the moment he broke as well, he just can’t hold it back anymore. The relief he feels is incredible.

He looks over to Y/N, and she weeps. Dean moves closer, cradles her face and lets her weep into his neck. The collar of his shirt is wet, he couldn’t care less. 

“Do you want to know the sex now?” The nurse asks, and Dean’s not even sure. “You can come cut the umbilical cord, you’ll see it then.”

“Uh, I really don’t know if I should,” 

“Dean, come on, I could push it out and now you can do it too.” Y/N says softly before her another wave of pain hits her. He didn’t even know why because the baby is out, right?

“Baby,” He says, leans over and grabs at her hand. 

“She’s fine.” The nurse assures him, “It’s the placenta that needs to get out too.”

Oh well, that’s so fucking reassuring. It doesn’t help calming his heart because he thought that the pain was over. 

“I’m fine, go.” Y/N says, breathes again and pushes and Dean reluctantly leaves her side.

His heart is beating fast, and he’s shaky on his feet. He hopes he won’t pass out before he reaches the nurse because that would be really embarrassing. He’s Dean fucking Winchester, not a wimp who passes out when his girl gives birth to his baby. So he stands up a little straighter, breathes in and walks towards the nurse. 

The nurse is smirking at him, was probably watching him while he prep-talked himself in his mind into walking here and Dean should mind, should maybe be a tiny bit embarrassed but he sees the baby and the nurse is the last thing he cares about right now. 

“We think you should tell the sex to your wife,” The nurse whispers and hands him the scissor. Dean unceremoniously cuts the cord, wonders if he should have done anything else? Say a few words before? Like they do when they christen a ship or something? But either way, his brain isn’t capable of thinking. He’s not even saying anything when the nurse says wife instead of fiancée or girlfriend. Maybe because he doesn’t mind the word. It actually sounds quite good in his ears.

When he wants to return to Y/N, all while he tries not to look at the mess between her legs, the nurse pulls at his arm, “You’re coming with me Mr. Winchester,” So he follows, because that’s what Y/N told him to do. Whatever happens, go with the baby, she said and so Dean does. 

He stands next to the nurse when she cleans his baby. She then proceeds to wrap the baby back up into the blanket and hands it to him. His first instinct is to kiss the baby, right there between it’s eyebrows. He’s sweating again now, is not sure if he can hold it and walk over at the same time, and he senses that the nurse knows, he’s probably not the only idiot who feels lost and overwhelmed so the nurse has her hand on Dean’s arm, with one hand braced on his back as she helps guide him back to Y/N. 

He smiles at her because she smiles at him. She’s crying and he knows he is too because everything’s blurry. 

Dean sits on the bed with half his body, leans over to hand her the baby. 

Their baby. 

When the baby’s secured in Y/N’s arms, Dean moves to the side, leaning on the bed so he can kiss her cheeks, her temple, and then they marvel at the baby together, while one of her hands comes up to pet his cheek, fingers stroking his scruff. 

“It’s a girl,” Dean whispers, has to control his voice so as not to cry again. 

“A girl?” Y/N’s sobbing and he turns to kiss her again. 

“A girl.” 

“Dean, we have a girl,” She says and then she stops stroking him, takes her hand back to place it on the girl's face, and paints the pad of her index finger along their baby girl's nose, her eyebrows. And then she lifts the baby, kisses her.

“We have a girl.” Dean repeats and his arm goes up, wraps them around the two most precious things that’s his. Because that’s what it is, ain’t it? They’re his. He’s keeping them. He’s not going to let anything or anyone take them away from him.

CH05

[viastro]

somewhere only we know | lee seokmin

ミ★ synopsis: in which you and seokmin go to your hidden spot. laying under the night sky, you both catch sight of a shooting star.

ミ★ genre: best friends!au, humor, fluff, hidden feelings

ミ★ warnings: none!

ミ★ word count: 1844

ミ★ pairings: seokmin x female reader

ミ★ notes: i literally almost cried while writing this uh HELP! i’m in my FEELINGS! i’ve been blaring day6 in my headphones for the past three hours and it’s almost 4 am but it’s fiNE! i’m going through it and that’s OKAY! omg i love seokmin he’s so precious i hope you guys like this one

“I just think we as a society should appreciate guys wearing cardigans more.” Mingyu states, taking a sip of his soda afterwards as he awaits everyone's response. Minghao raises his hands up in the air and claps, “Outstanding. Say it LOUDER!” 

“I JUST THINK WE AS A SOCIETY-”

“Stop.” Seungkwan goes into a laughing fit, causing the rest of the guys to lose it. You grin behind your soda, trying to hold back your own laughter. Seokmin laughs loudly beside you as Mingyu gets up to shove Minghao off the couch. 

It’s a warm Friday night at the Jeon residence, the fourteen of you goofing around after finishing your finals. You guys haven’t been able to hangout altogether like this for a month since you were all so busy studying for your exams, so being able to sit down and spend time with them is nice.

Except for the fact that you feel this heavy weight on your shoulders cause you feel like you absolutely failed your sociology final. You know that Seokmin has noticed your mood due to him staying close beside you the whole night, trying to make you laugh as much as he can. 

“You alright?” Seokmin finally asks, spouting you out of your thoughts. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and you give him a small smile, “Kinda. Just worried about my final, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” 

“Of course I’m gonna worry about you yn, you’re my best friend. I can literally sense how much it’s bothering you based on how slouched you are right now.” You immediately straighten your shoulders, making Seokmin chuckle at you. 

“Mingyu please get off of mE!”

“No, you were rude.”

“HELLO??!!”

“Wow, and nobody’s gonna help him?” Jeonghan says as he videotapes the whole thing, and you snort, reaching over to the coffee table to grab a chip.

“Some world we live in.” Chan finishes, bursting into laughter when Minghao starts slamming his fists onto the floor like a child who got their favorite toy taken away. Mingyu finally gets up off the poor boy, and Minghao lets out a wheeze before standing up and jumping on the giant.

“Ah shit, everyone grab their cups and plates.” You announce, and everyone grabs whatever’s fragile and places it out of their way. Minghao currently has Mingyu in a chokehold, and Mingyu is refusing to tap out as Vernon now takes the role as referee.

“Mingyu! Just tap out already!” Wonwoo yells, and Mingyu shakes his head no.

“Your face is so fucking red Mingyu please!”

“N-neve-” Mingyu wheezes in the middle of his sentence, tapping Minghao’s arm. Minghao finally lets go, and stands up in victory. You all laugh when Vernon raises his arm up as if they just won the Olympics.

“You wanna head out?” Seokmin asks as you pull out your phone while everyone starts talking again. You turn to look at him, letting out a small grin, “Yeah, sure.” 

“Okay guys, I need to take yn home. She’s really tired.” Seokmin announces, and the boys release a round of, “Awe man.” and, “We’ll see you on Monday!” 

“Bye guys! Love you, text you later.” You say as you put on your hoodie. You and Seokmin wave goodbye before heading out of Wonwoo’s house. You breathe in the fresh air, gazing up at the dark night sky. Slight disappointment settles in your stomach once you take notice of the lack of stars. 

“Yn, let’s go to our place.” Seokmin says from his car, half his body already in the driver’s seat. You feel excitement fill your veins at the thought of looking at the stars from you and Seok’s secret place, so a big smile breaks out onto your face. You nod your head and skip over to the car.

“Do you have a blanket?” You ask as you step out of the car and into the clearing. Seokmin nods his head, stepping over and opening the trunk. You go to him, peeking your head over his shoulder you take notice of the basket of snacks and two blankets. Warmth floods your face once you realize he must’ve planned this, making your heart do a little backflip.

“You planned this?” Seokmin doesn’t respond, instead he takes one of the blankets and hands it to you. You hug it tightly in your arms as he grabs the second blanket and the basket of snacks. 

“Let’s go!” He exclaims, dashing off up the hill of grass. You let out a squeal, yelling out, “Wait for me!” as you put your phone into your pocket and start running after him.

You’ve been best friends with the twelve guys since your freshman year of high school, having met through you all collectively getting detention for multiple different reasons. You love all of them with your whole heart, they played a big role in making high school a lot more bearable. You’re closest to Seokmin though, you think of him as a soulmate of sorts. You guys becoming best friends was unexpected to the group, considering the fact that you both argued all the time in the beginning of the friendship. 

It was only when you and Seokmin decided to prank Mingyu one random summer day, that you two quickly became best friends. You both even got into the same college! As did half of the friend group actually, the other half going to another university a few minutes away from yours. It was 2 am on a warm spring night Seokmin called you, telling you to get ready in five minutes.

“You look pretty.” Seokmin says when you step into his car, and you scoff. You’re literally wearing your winnie the pooh onesie since it’s deadass three in the fucking morning.

“Can’t believe you’re making me leave my warm bed.” You mutter, crossing your arms and pouting out the window. Seokmin turns to look at you, letting out a small giggle at your expression.

“You could’ve told me no.”

“You literally called me saying get ready in five minutes, then hung up the phone without letting me respond.”

“And? It’s not my fault you’re too slow.”

“I’m gonna kill you.” Seokmin lets out a gasp, placing his hand over his mouth in feign shock. You roll your eyes, finally giggling a bit. He glances at you and smiles at the sight of you giggling in your winnie the pooh onesie. 

“Where are we even going anyways Seok?” You ask and he shrugs in response, turning up the heater. 

“So it’s a surprise?”

“Precisely. If I say more, then it’s no longer a surprise.” 

“Well that’s lame.”

“You’re the one wearing a winnie the pooh onesie here, yn.” 

“BITCH!”

That night Seokmin took you to this hidden hill that he found for the first time, and it became your guys’ spot. You go here every once in a while when you’re stressed, with or without Seokmin. However, there’s been multiple instances where you head over and see him already staring up at the stars. It’s been a month since you’ve last been here, and Seokmin knew that. That’s why he planned to take you here after the friend group hangout.

“Last one up the hill has to buy the other boba-” Seokmin trips and lands face flat into the grass mid-sentence, letting you take the lead and run all the way to the tree. You slap the bark, turning to look at Seokmin with a big smirk on your face. 

“Good GOD I think I have grass in my nose.” He yells and you laugh as he walks up to you. He sets down the blanket he was holding onto the ground, and places the basket on top. He turns to you with a small smile.

“You owe me boba.” 

“I know.” Seokmin sighs in defeat, taking off his sneakers and sitting on the blanket. You take yours off as well, sitting down close beside him and unfolding the blanket you were holding. You place it over both of your legs before opening the basket. 

“Eeee! You got sour patch kids!” You exclaim, quickly opening up the bag and placing a blue one into your mouth. 

“Of course, they’re your favorite.” He says nonchalantly, but internally his heart is warm at your excited reaction. You turn and give Seokmin a smile, placing a red one into the palm of his hand. He puts in his mouth and his face scrunches up at the initial sourness, and you giggle. 

“You seem to be in a better mood now.” Seokmin mentions and you nod your head slowly, letting out a small laugh. You lay on your back to get a better look at the stars, and your eyes widen at how clear the night sky is at the top of the hill.

“I can never get used to this view.” You whisper, and Seokmin nods his head. He adjusts the blanket before laying down beside you. He lets out a low whistle at the view, and you both lay there in silence for a moment. Soaking in the beautiful night sky.

“I’m worried about my future, my potential internship really relies on that final I took.” You confess, and Seokmin turns his head to look at you. The stars reflect in your eyes, and the natural light from the moon brings a beautiful, soft glow to your features. 

“You probably did great yn, you’re the most diligent out of all of us besides Wonwoo.” Seokmin tells you and you shake your head, letting out a sigh.

“I don’t know. I just feel stupid, my intelligence is such a big insecurity of mine. I just hope my hard work pays off again.” You mutter and Seokmin finds your hand under the blanket, intertwining your fingers together as a sign of comfort. 

“You’re smart yn. Don’t let that bad conscious of yours tell you otherwise.” Seokmin says softly, and you turn your head to find him already staring at you.

“I don’t believe in myself.” He squeezes your hand, noticing how your eyes sparkle underneath the moonlight.

“That’s okay, because I believe in you.” You purse your lips at the sweet comment, heart practically palpitating in your chest due to it. He gives you a soft smile, turning back to face the stars.

“Oh! A shooting star! Make a wish!” Seokmin says, pointing at the sky. You quickly turn your head and catch the last seconds of the shooting star. You immediately close your eyes, letting go of Seokmin’s hand to clap your own hands together, quietly saying your wish in your head. 

Seokmin turns his head back so that he’s looking at you, and he lets out a small smile. Your eyes are closed as you make your wish, a slight furrow to your brow and a small pout on your lips. He lets out a breath before closing his eyes, 

I wish for you, the girl who’s fascinated by the stars but fails to notice that she holds the whole galaxy in her gaze.

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

this is so strange to ask, but could you write something about Mando and the reader and about their age gap (she’s 20/22 - that’s because technically he’s 33/34 - i don’t remember well)? choose you if something fluff or anything else, obviously just if u have free time!! ☀️

This is not strange at all man, and yes I think that’s about right. Or at least it sounds right to me.

I decided to go for fluffy fluff with a smudge of angst and mentions of smut on this one since I’ve been writing a lot of smut lately, buuuuut if you all would like a smutty part two I would be more than happy to oblige as soon as I can!

This is also unedited and short I apologize. 

-

You hate this. 

Din—you were there when Moss Gideon called him by his true name—is sitting with the Child in the hull, rolling that metal ball towards him on the floor, gently so that the Child has a chance to grab it. When the baby giggles, you grin and there’s a soft noise that escapes through the vocoder. It makes your heart swell with a longing ache. 

When you first met Din, you never thought in a million galaxies that it would go this far. That one job would lead to another with your skills, and eventually you would become the Child’s caretaker. That slowly, as you became more familiar, the Mandalorian started to creep into your every daydream. It soon escalated into your every thought, your every breath, and the butterflies in your stomach that flutter in a frenzy when you were around him; the very same ones that still reside within the confines of nervous giddiness. 

At first, you chalked it up to a stupid crush. You are young, early twenties, and he’s a man; just in his early thirties, and illuminating every bit of swagger and enigma that was just sexy and appealing to you. And Din is nothing but good towards you, even stoic and ever so distant in his way. He’s kind when he’s not bounty hunting, he’s soft when it’s just the three of you on the Razor Crest—with the Child more than you, obviously, but he never once has asked you to leave the room if you sit from afar and watch. It’s something that you could easily get over and eventually move on from. You said this to yourself every day and night when your thoughts drifted to that Din Djarin cloud of yours, and occasionally—if the need was too much—you’d stick your hand down your pants and think of his cock inside you as you came. 

Then he almost died. That broke you, made you realize that it was all more than just a crush; somewhere along the lines, you fell in love with him. Hard. Life is funny like that. 

But he just doesn’t feel the same about you and you will never be the to make him laugh like that and no doubt smile. You will never even have a chance of feeling a sliver of his bare skin against yours, or the brush of his lips. You will never hear any adoring words of affection from him that’ll turn you into a puddle of lovey gooiness. It’s something you have to endure and suffer through. 

“Hey.”

You blink through your daydream, realizing that Din—Mando, you have to remember to call him; Din is too… personal and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable—has been calling your name. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Just… thinking.”

“Yeah.” The modulator crackles. “Are you hungry?”

As much as it sounds appealing to you, you're in too much stress right now to put in the effort to eat, so you shake your head no and watch as he sighs and stands up. He stands in place and wobbles with one foot poised in one direction and the other in yours. It’s like he’s contemplating something and that brings your undivided attention. 

“Did I—did I do something?” He asks with uncertainty. 

You blink dumbly at him. “W-what do you mean?” You curse yourself for how weak you sound. 

“I—” He stops, puts his head down for a moment, then whips it back up to you and clenches his fist. “I mean did I do something to make you… distant?”

Distant? Oh. Oh. You thought you were really good at concealing your emotions, you really did. But you’re not as good as you like to imagine and now the jig is up. You’re going to have to tell him, because he’s, well he’s the Mandalorian; the one you’ve been partners with for a while, so he knows when you’re lying and you just—you need to tell him. It’s only fair to the both of you. 

You wring your hands nervously in your lap and chew on your bottom lip. Your heart is pounding against your chest rather uncomfortably that spreads to the rest of your body and makes your leg start to bounce with the increasing anxiety. 

C’mon. This is now or never. 

“Mando I’m—I’m in love with you.” It practically comes out a whimper, and it’s too fucking quiet but you take a deep breath and will yourself to keep going. “And I know that that probably makes you uncomfortable, and that you don’t feel the same way at all. So I’ll… you can drop me off at the next stop. I’ll be okay.”

As painful as it was saying, you can’t deny how good it feels letting it all out. Din—Mando—appears to be in shock. His whole body is stiff, and you’re sure if you poked him he would sway under the miniscule pressure. Your stomach is in knots, awaiting his response to your confession with tears burning in the back of your eyes. But you will not cry, not here and not now. 

“You think—” He chuckles, deep but without humor. “And here I was sitting here thinking that you didn’t like me.”

Wait. What? Is this real?

A gust of air escapes you with an airy laugh. “Wha—wow.” You don’t know what else to say. It’s like your brain is short circuiting, blank and unyielding in its chaos. 

“Yeah.” He sighs and takes tentative steps towards you until he plops himself down next to you, but doesn’t face you; he stares ahead at the Child. It’s quiet for a little, sans the gurgles and babbles, and you take this moment of silence to collect your thoughts. 

“Why did you think that I didn’t like you?” You finally whisper. 

The helmet tilts down. “Because… because you’re so young.” He whispers. “And I was trying to spare you from making you uncomfortable or—or hating me. And you still—” He stops. 

You nod your head eagerly and encourage him with a small smile. You need to know. 

“And you still call me Mando.” He relents. “I know that sounds stupid, and I know that you’re just being respectful and I appreciate that. But I don’t know, the doubt started to creep in when you didn’t ask your silly little questions like you always do, especially about my name.”

This is all just… ridiculous. You start to giggle, and you can’t stop even when the visor stares quizzically at you and you feel him tense even more beside you. 

“I-I’m sorry it’s just,” you manage to croak. “It’s just this whole time, and our own insecurities were holding us back.”

It takes a minute, but eventually you hear that sweet, raspy and robotic chuckle filter through the helmet. Your heart swells and your smile is wide to the point of discomfort that you can’t stop. 

“And with the age thing,” you start. “I don’t care about that. I’m an adult and you’re an adult. Just because your bones crack when you stand and you groan when you have to bend down does not mean I love you any less.” 

You grin at the end and expect him to argue back, or to laugh with you. 

“...Can I kiss you?”

Maker. Maker this is really happening. 

You lick your lips and nod, not fully trusting your voice. 

“Close your eyes.” It comes out soft, almost a whisper. 

You look towards the Child, who must have fallen asleep on the blanket Mando—Din, you can call him Din now—laid out as they played, and close your eyes. The anticipation is killing you already and it’s only been a second, but you’ve been waiting so long for this and it’s finally within your grasp. There’s a loud hiss that makes you slightly jump. 

Then there’s a soft wisp against your lips; that small ghost of air that flows from his mouth onto your awaiting kiss, teasing you. You keep your eyes tightly shut as he palms your cheeks in his hands—bare and rough but soft against and you wonder just when he took those gloves off—and he presses his lips against yours. 

At first it’s soft, just a cautious press. It’s still enough to take your breath away, to have to fight back the urge to keen into him and throw yourself onto him. Then he finally, finally, kisses you harder. You immediately gasp and he clumsily fits his mouth against yours, trying to move in perfect sync. You follow his lips, losing yourself to the language of this kiss; the first of the many that are to come, the one that’s a little unsure but absolutely reventing in the simplicity of it, begging for more and more. When you trail the tip of your tongue against his plump lip, you swallow his moan and explore the divine taste of him. Din responds just as eagerly and your body is on fire, and he’s the cooling water and the smoldering flame at the same time, bringing you into his warmth and completely enveloping you into… into his everything. 

You whine when he pulls away for air, and he indulges you into a few more pecks before he completely pulls away. It feels cold but your swollen lips thump with an untainted love that’ll keep you sated; at least for a little while. 

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