#anyway really hope they get a conversation next week where some of this is touched upon

[princessamericachavez]

Even before the episode, while rewatching old seasons, I was just struck by how big an impact Buck’s had on Eddie’s life. 

Like, please, picture this: 

You are Eddie Diaz, ok? An army vet who quite literally just went through an extremely traumatic experience, immediately got left by your wife and in a desperate move to find happiness for you and your son you move across the country to start a new life. 

You are the new guy at work and this man about your age really has it out for you. That’s fine by you. You’ve put up with enough bullshit in the army, you are just here to do your work, it’s harder than that to get under your skin. Plus, this guy seems okay, aside from all the dick measuring, and you’re sure he’ll tire himself out if you just don’t play along. Then, oh surprise, after a single shift you give the guy one compliment and he folds completely, before you know it he’s decided you two are friends. Fine, good. You miss the army’s camaraderie. This will probably be just like that. 

Few weeks in, Christopher comes up. You hesitate because you don’t like talking about your kid with strangers, but you are worried about him being out there alone during the earthquake and there’s really no way to avoid the subject forever. You’re already dreading the pity looks from people who don’t understand this kid is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Instead, you get a wide smile, “he’s super adorable, I love kids”. In retrospect, you should’ve expected it. What you don’t expect is the way Buck spends the entirety of the shift reassuring you that Chris is alright, even when you’re pretty sure you’ve done nothing to betray your worry (you know better than to panic, it does nothing to help), but Buck seems to notice anyway and keeps sprouting curiosities to reassure you. He even drives you across the torn up town at a reckless speed to make sure you can reach your son as soon as possible. 

Few weeks later, abuela has an accident. Buck drives you to the hospital, even though you could’ve taken a cab to the firehouse to pick up your truck, and goes all the way in with you. He’s a good friend like that. Turns out, he’s a very good friend, because he catches you by surprise calling ahead to let the Cap know you need help with Chris and arranges a whole day of him hanging out with the 118. You didn’t ask for it, and he doesn’t expect so much as a ‘thank you’. 

Next night, he makes a big deal of introducing you to a woman and you are already dreading, once again, the reveal moment when you have to explain that thank you very much but you are still married and really your only priority right now is your son and- wait, that woman is the perfect caretaker that might or might not be the solution you’ve been desperately searching for to get your and your son’s life together.

This guy you just met a few weeks ago has given you friendship, reassurance, company, thoughtful help without you ever asking (you’ve never been good at asking for it) and he’s just sitting there smiling proudly while he helps you possibly assure your kids future.

All of this... it happens in the first FOUR episodes of s2 after Eddie is introduced. No wonder he’s in love ride or die for Buck. Who wouldn’t be?

In a year, they are inseparable. In two years, Eddie makes him Christopher’s legal guardian in case he dies. In three, Buck saves his life. In four they are basically a family and the person Christopher goes to in a panic. Five years in, Buck is in a coma and Eddie Diaz cannot even look at him, cannot picture a world where he’s dead, cannot envision his life without him. 

[silent-stories]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 - 𝟐

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie finally works up the courage to talk to you again and he's not disappointed.

Part 1

"I'm sorry, I won't." You repeated for about the hundredth time as you placed some brushes in a jar and then on a shelf.

The lesson had been over for a few minutes and your classmates were getting ready to finally leave.

Aaron rolled his eyes as he washed his hands at the sink located in the corner of the art classroom, watching the water wash the red paint off his hands, coloring the liquid as it descended.

It almost looked like blood.

"Your parents won't be home for two days. Two fucking days, Y/N. And you don't want to have a party?" He turned to you with his usual smile he used when trying to get someone to do what he wanted.

It was not going to work with you.

"Well, I'm sorry. I'm not really one for parties." You shrugged.

Aaron had spent all of class trying to get you to throw a party on Saturday night since your parents were away for the weekend, your house was big, and you had a pool.

Aaron insisted. "But it will be fun. We can invite your friends, Jason and his team and-"

"Aaron, c'mon. Even if I had this stupid party, I wouldn't invite those people."

They were the last people you wanted to see at school, let alone invite them to a party.

"What's wrong with Jason? He's been one of the first people I've talked to since I moved here, besides you, and he's a really cool guy."

You liked Aaron, you had met him a week ago when he asked if you knew where the art class was and you had accompanied him, saying you were going there too, but sometimes he would say things that would skyrocket your want to slap him.

Over the next few days you'd gotten closer and closer and you'd noticed how most of the girls – and even some of the boys – watched Aaron at school.

He was new and that equaled interesting, he was blond and green-eyed, which for many cheerleaders equaled cute.

You also suspected that many of them were jealous that he was spending so much time with you instead of them.

Anyway, you didn't like him that way, of course you had to admit that he respected the canons of beauty to which people paid attention, but there were things more important than how symmetrical someone's face was.

"Cool? Do you want me to make you a list of all the reasons why I don't like that asshoke? He's selfish, obnoxious, vain, a bully....should I go on?" You crossed your arms over your chest.

"Nah, I'd like to listen to all your reasons but I have to go, honey. I'm going out with Jason and his friends later." He said running his fingers through his blond curls.

You raised your eyebrows, still hoping you misunderstood what he said.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I told you, they're cool guys."

"Like a stick up your ass."

Aaron burst out laughing. "Y/N, c'mon!"

"What? It's true!"

Aaron shook his head before grabbing his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, okay?"

He smiled at you as he usually did, showing his perfect white teeth and rested a hand on your arm for a few seconds.

His smile was sometimes frighteningly reminiscent of Billy Hargrove's.

One thing you couldn't stand was the way he was always touching you. One arm around your shoulders, one hand on yours or your arm.

It always seemed like something too intimate, like the way he called you "honey" all the time, but you thought maybe it was your problem.

"Yeah, bye." You placed the last rags covered in color stains in their appropriate drawer.

"And think about the party!" He yelled before walking out the door, leaving you alone in the classroom.

"I won't!"

Eddie lingered in front of art class, watching some students leave after the last bell of the day rang and wondering why he suddenly had no idea how to start a conversation.

The last one to leave the class was the boy he had seen you with the day before, the one Dustin said was Aaron and that he wasn't your boyfriend.

As he walked out of the classroom, his gaze briefly met Eddie's, who was leaning back against the wall thinking about what he could do or what he could talk about with you.

And that look, it was definitely not the look of the nice guy next door who brings you cake as soon as he moves next to your house and offers to mow your lawn.

It was Jason's same look, it was the look of everyone who looked at Eddie as if he were trash.

It was the look of everyone who was sure Eddie was the leader of a satanic cult that no one would want anything to do with.

It was the same look as everyone who referred to him as a "freak."

Just the thought of you spending your time with that guy made Eddie think he had no chance with you and that he'd better go home and try to get over you. As if it was possible.

Suddenly, Eddie found himself alone in the hallway and for a moment he thought that you too had left the classroom and that he, too immersed in his thoughts, hadn't even noticed.

But no, it wasn't possible, he always noticed you.

He reached the threshold of the door and finally saw you, intent on moving a canvas in the corner of the room, on your hands there were still some traces of color that not even the water had managed to sweep away.

"Need a hand?" Eddie asked, surprising even himself.

You whirled on him, probably startled by the sudden voice but when you saw him, you smiled and Eddie almost forgot how to breathe.

"No, it's okay. I'm done. What are you doing here?" You asked as you grabbed a book off a table and stuffed it into your bag, before slinging it over your shoulder and walking towards him.

What was he doing there?

He wanted to see you, he wanted to hear the sound of your laugh and talk to you about any topic that crossed your mind because he was undoubtedly in love with you but too cowardly to tell you.

"Henderson told me you were here and I thought I'd come by and say hi."

He hoped it didn't sound stupid.

"Well, hi." You laughed as you walked out of the classroom, closing the door behind you.

Eddie watched you take a few steps ahead of you in the hallway before you turned to him.

"Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah, sure." He hastened to catch up with you.

"Today I'm walking home. This morning I woke up earlier than usual and it was sunny so I didn't use my car. Would you like to... walk me home?"

Eddie glanced at you to meet your sincere, hopeful expression.

"I don't live very far from here, don't worry." You added.

"Yeah, yes. Of course." He answered quickly, already kicking himself for letting you think that he didn’t want to go with you. He would have wanted even if you lived on the other side of the world.

You felt good spending time with Eddie.

You didn't quite know what it was but you felt the same sensation you felt when you sat in front of a fireplace in winter with a blanket on your legs and a book in your hands.

It was a feeling of calm and tranquility. You felt like you were really being listened to when you talked about the things you liked, that you weren't judged and you simply felt safe when you were with him.

It wasn't the same feeling you had when you were with Aaron. It was not even close.

Before you rounded the corner in the hallway, Eddie heard voices talking to each other.

"Wait, um-" Eddie didn't know how to say it. "There's  someone. It's okay if you don't want to be seen with me."

It was like a reflex, a habit. No one wanted to be seen with him other than the Hellfire kids and his friends in his band.

His words hit you like a knife and your heart started bleeding for that sweet boy you barely knew.

All those years he'd spent being treated like he didn't deserve to, like no one would ever deserve, like a freak, had made him think that no one would want to be seen even to talk to him.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair for all of Hawkings to judge a person they didn't even know for who he really were.

"It's okay, Eddie." You you reassured him as you rounded the corner, finding two cheerleaders talking to each other.

And Eddie, hearing your simple words, for a moment really thought that everything was okay. That there was no social barrier to divide you, that you were really friends and that he had the possibility to become something more for you one day.

He also liked the way his name sounded when you said it.

As you walked down the hallway, Eddie suddenly felt your fingers brush his and when he realized it wasn't by mistake, your hand had already met his and you intertwined your fingers with his.

Strangely, Eddie didn't catch his breath or start sweating like he did whenever you were even near him.

He wasn't even nervous anymore. But he smiled.

He felt as if someone had lifted a weight off his chest and now he could breathe easier, as if with your hand in his everything could really be fine.

When you passed the cheerleaders your hand was still holding his, stready, secure, not letting go.

When you got out of school you kept talking all the way home and every time Eddie heard the sound of your laugh he wished he could record it so he could listen to it whenever he wanted as if it was his favorite song.

You only let go of his hand when you arrived in front of your house.

"And then I told my uncle that I'd found a job, but I actually sat on the sidewalk every day downtown and played my guitar with a hat on the ground hoping someone would leave me a dollar." Eddie finished, noting that he was talking to you about personal facts that few other people knew about.

"If I had known, I would have come and left you a few bucks, you know." You commented.

"I was twelve, Y/N. So you were ten. I don't think you had much money to waste at that time." He laughed.

"When I was a kid I had ice cream almost every day. I could have given you my ice cream money."

Eddie smiled. "Would you have given up your daily ice cream for me?"

"For you, that and more" You chuckled as you opened the gate to your house. "Thanks for walking me home." You added.

"Anytime, I like hanging out with you." Eddie still didn't understand where he had found all that courage.

One corner of your mouth curled up. "I like it too."

"See you at school, then?" He asked.

"See you at school, Eddie." You repead before disappearing behind the door of your house.

He stood there for a few more moments, even getting a glare from your neighbor watering the flowers in her garden.

When he said 1986 was going to be his year, maybe he'd been right.

Part 3

I thought I'd write a part 2 and stop but... I kinda like this. Maybe a little series will come out of this?

Who asked to be tagged in the second part will also be tagged in all the other parts so if you want to be removed, let me know <3

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat

Love you from afar tags: @capitanostella @enam3l @saramelaniemoon @ang3lb44by @einkitty @themorriganisamonster @esme-viridian @daisyridleyyyy @whenshelanded @eggo-segual @comfortcharactercraze @callmeyn @expiredcum21 @unholyyylita @squidscottjeans @twilight-love-nochu-main @idkatee

[magicalmysteries777]

"You're clueless, you know that?" - Reader x Eddie Munson & Reader x Steve Harrington (fake)

Summary: You agree to accompany Steve to Enzo's for Valentine's Day with only one shared goal in mind - to make Eddie so jealous he has no choice but to have the one conversation he's being avoiding.

Pairings: F!Reader x Steve Harrington & F!Reader x Eddie Munson.

Chapter: 1 of 1.

W/C: 2314.

A/N: Happy Valentines Day, besties! This trope paired with Steve and Eddie has had me in a chokehold for a while now and I'm so happy that the lil ADHD gremlin in my brain has finally let me write the damn thing. <3

This one-shot can also be found on AO3 here.

“You really think that’ll work? Pretending to go on a date with you?” you asked, leaning against the counter at Family Video.

“It better work. Personally, I’m sick of hearing you pine over him. He’s had a thing for you ever since you joined Hellfire but he’s completely clueless when it comes to all the hints you’ve dropped,” Robin chimed in without looking up from the ‘returns’ pile of videotapes she was sorting through.

Clueless didn’t even begin to cut it.

You’d known about Eddie’s crush on you for months now, ever since Dustin slipped up and spilled the beans at lunch one day. The poor kid made you swear on your own life that you wouldn’t tell Eddie you knew.

True to your word, you kept the secret and began dropping hints instead. Eddie couldn’t read the room to save his life.

Any time you caught him staring, he’d break eye contact before you could smile back at him. Any time your hands accidentally touched, he’d move his hand away and play it off if you didn’t keep your hand perfectly still.

“I think it’s perfect,” Steve smiled. “There’s nothing like a bit of jealously to make you realise what you want.”

“I dunno,” you mumbled, chewing your cheek while you weighed up your options.

“When he sees you all dolled up, thinking it’s for me, the dots will connect. Trust me.”

“Fine, I’ll find out when he’s working.”

-

Steve’s plan had been in the back of your mind the whole time you’d been sitting around the table with your fellow Hellfire members. It was a long game of highs and lows all night. Despite the distraction, you’d manage to come out of the battle victorious with a mere five health points left. The party, albeit a little bruised and battered, was one step closer to defeating Myrkul and Eddie was in a good mood.

It took the usual fifteen minutes to pack up Eddie’s maps, dice, tokens, and other various game pieces before you climbed into the passenger side of his van. “Sorry for the mess,” Eddie apologised.

“You say that every week and yet you never clean it.”

“I do, it just gets messy again,” he smirked.

You were halfway home when you glanced over at Eddie. His hair was frizzy, sticking up in places from all the near misses in battle where he’d had his hands running through it. The rings on his left hand were glowing gently from the reflection of his lit cigarette as he used it to control the steering wheel. His right hand was methodically fiddling with the busted cassette player that he’d been meaning to fix for months. As always when Eddie was concentrating, his tongue was sticking out and resting against his top lip.

“Got it!” he exclaimed as Rainbow in the Dark started blasting from the speaker, a huge grin spread across his face.

“When are you going to buy a new one?” you chuckled, prodding at the battered box.

“Stop touching it,” he slapped your hand away. “It’ll start crackling again. I’ve picked up some overtime next weekend, I’m hoping the gents will be tipping big to impress their dates.”

“No Valentine’s plan with anyone special then?”

“Nope, just work. Doubt there’s anyone out there who would want to spend their Valentine’s Day with the ‘Freak of Hawkins’ anyway.”

“You’d be surprised, some people like their men a little freaky.”

“What about you? Any plans?” he asked, the change in tone rather subtle.

For a moment, you weren’t sure if you were going to go through with the plan. Steve’s words echoed through your mind listed the pros and cons. ‘Trust me.’

“Yeah, I’ve got a date at Enzo's. At least I don’t have to worry about it going bad now if you’re working, you can come over and scare him off for me.”

“That’s great. Wow, a date. Um, yeah, I’ll fend him off for you if things go pear-shaped. Do I, uh, know the guy?” he stuttered.

“I don’t want to jinx it,” you answered, remembering Robin's claims that a little bit of mystery would be the key to the whole plan working.

“Of course,” Eddie agreed, a sarcastically dumb look plastered on his face. You couldn’t help but notice that this was exactly how he used to act when Dustin mentioned Steve. “Would you look at that? Here we are. Once again, dropped off in one piece, as requested.”

“You okay, Ed?” you ask, one eyebrow raised.

“Yep. Fine. Tired,” he mumbled through an unconvincing yawn. “Long game. I’m gonna go and, uh, get some sleep. Night.”

-

“And he said it exactly like that?” Steve asked.

“Yes, Steve, how many times do I have to go through it? He basically kicked me out of the van,” you answered.

“It’s definitely working.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. Wait until he finds out it’s me, he’s gonna freak.”

“He might not react at all. Believe it or not, he is professional at work.”

“Bet on it?”

“Shut up.”

-

Eddie had been an asshole all week.

Jeff and Gareth got the worst of it. You, however, had been getting the silent treatment. It was Thursday lunchtime when Eddie finally acknowledged you again.

“So, what are your plans this weekend?” Dustin asked Mike.

“Movies with El then dinner, you?”

“Arcade with Will. What about you, Eddie?”

“Work and band, why?”

“It’s called small talk,” Dustin answered. “What is with you this week?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he snapped.

“Tell your face that, man,” added Jeff.

“Lay off it. Why don’t you ask her what she’s doing this weekend instead and leave me alone?” Eddie prompted, gesturing in your direction. He did not stick around to hear the answer, walking away dramatically.

“Well, what are you doing?” asked Dustin.

“I’ve got a date,” you answered quickly and quietly, sinking into your seat as a sense of guilt began to creep up on you.

“You what?!” asked Gareth.

“I said I’ve got a date.”

“Yeah, I heard you. The fuck do you mean you’ve got a date? With who?”

“Does it matter?” you ask asked.

“Evidently it does. I’ve been taking the brunt of his crap all week and you’re telling me it’s because you’re going on a date?”

“How was I supposed to know he’d react like this?” you quickly try to defend yourself.

“Are you blind?” Jeff asks.

“No, but he is. I’ve dropped hints. Lots of them. If he doesn’t want to acknowledge it then that’s on him.”

-

“Wow,” smiled Steve, looking you up and down. He took your hand, albeit rather dramatically, and began leading you to the car.

“Save it for the restaurant, you dingus. Does this look okay then?” you ask.

“The dress alone might kill him, never mind the heels and hair.”

Ten minutes later, Steve parked up outside Enzo's.

“When we get in there, sit with your back to the bar. You’re about to get the full Harrington charm, okay?” he asked.

“Got it.”

“Hi there, table for two under Harrington,” Steve told the hostess.

“Follow me.”

“Here we are,” the hostess said as she gestured to a small table. “Here are your menus, the waiter will be over to take your order shortly.”

“Thank you,” you replied, taking the seat that Steve had pulled out for you.

“So,” you began.

“So,” Steve replied with a grin.

“I’m not going to lie, Steve, I feel really awkward.”

“I can tell,” he responded. “Relax. We’re just two friends, dressed up, and having a nice meal. Loosen up a little and have fun, or this isn’t going to work.”

You tried to relax, really, you did. But you couldn’t help shake the feeling that Eddie was burning holes into the back of your head with his staring.

“Welcome to Enzo's, my name is Ruben and I’ll be your server this evening. Any drinks to start?”

“Sparkling water for me, and…” Steve prompted.

“Lemonade, please.”

“Awesome, I’ll get that put in at the bar for you. Any starters today?”

“Do you-” Steve began, turning his attention back to you.

“More of a dessert person,” you answer.

“Me too,” smiled Ruben. “What mains would you like?”

“Lasagne for me, please,” answered Steve.

“Chicken Alfredo, please.”

“Awesome. I’ll get all that put in for you, enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, ‘preciate that,” Steve told him before he left the table.

After a couple of minutes of the usual “how was work?” and “how was school?” small talk, Steve’s gaze quickly shot behind you as he sat up a little bit straighter.

“Here’s your lemonade,” Eddie announced, placing the glass down in front of you.

“Thanks, Eddie. How’s your shift?” you asked with a smile.

“So-so. Started going downhill about twenty minutes ago,” he answered.

“Nothing worse than a shitty Friday shift,” Steve chimed in.

“Evening rush,” Eddie responded, unwilling to meet Steve’s gaze. “Everything okay over here?”

“Great, thank you,” you respond.

“Harrington,” Eddie muttered, placing Steve’s water in front of him with a little bit more force than he did the lemonade, before heading back to the bar.

“He won’t even look at me, this is working even better than I thought,” Steve chuckled.

-

One hour and one chicken alfredo later, Ruben returned.

“Well you two are looking cosy over here,” he told you. Steve had been giving you cues on how to sit and when to laugh all evening. “How about that dessert? I highly recommend the ‘brownie and ice cream for two.’ Chef special tonight.”

“Sounds perfect,” answered Steve.

“Alrighty, that’ll be about ten to fifteen minutes. Any more drinks?”

“The same again, please,” you answer.

A couple of minutes later, Steve gave another instruction.

“Rest your left arm on the table.”

“What?”

“Now.”

Steve let out a sudden laugh and adjusted himself in his seat. He placed his arm on the table, his fingertips slightly brushing against your own.

A loud crashing noise from behind you had heads rolling to see what was going on. Every pair of eyes in the restaurant landed on Eddie.

“Sorry folks,” he announced. Eddie quickly began picking up the larger shards of glass whilst another bartender brought over cloths and a broom.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Steve whispered, loud enough for only you to hear.

-

You really were getting the full Harrington charm, as promised. Steve had been feeding you brownie on and off for ten minutes, his glancing over to Eddie quickly now and again.

“It’s almost time,” Steve whispered.

“Time for what?”

“The grand finale.”

Steve leaned in slightly and wiped the side of your mouth gently with his thumb. “Ice cream,” he smirked.

“Is that really necessary?”

“One hundred percent. On my cue, you’re going to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom,” he began.

“But-”

“If this whole fake date has gone to plan, which by the way has been lovely, then I do believe Munson won’t let you make it that far. Go now.”

As instructed, you excused yourself from the table and made your way towards the bathroom. Just as you got to the door you felt a hand close softly around your wrist.

“Hey, can we talk?” Eddie asked.

“Everything okay?”

“No, actually, it’s not,” he answered. Eddie glanced around before pulling you through a door labelled ‘staff only’.

“Eddie, wha-”

“You can’t date Steve.”

“I can date whoever I like Eddie,” you respond.

“Why him?” he asked, his hand still wrapped lightly around your wrist.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he began, pausing in thought. “Because he’s… he’s got a reputation. Surely you’ve heard all the rumours?”

“And we both know him well enough to know he’s not that person anymore,” you answer, your gaze locking with Eddie’s who, surprisingly, held it.

“You just can’t, please,” he pleaded.

“Give me a good enough reason as to why I shouldn’t go back out there and I won’t.”

Eddie stayed silent for a few moments, his big, brown eyes locked on yours. The small staff room became stuffy all of a sudden, the air so thick it felt like you could barely breathe. You held your ground, waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t. You stared back at Eddie, your eyes pleading with him to just say something. Anything.

You broke your gaze from Eddie’s and turned towards the door, ready to give up and go home. Eddie’s grip on your wrist tightened and he pulled you back towards him, using his free hand to cup your face as his lips met yours.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, Eddie kissing you, but it felt like forever. The tension in the air vanished, leaving you with a cozy feeling deep in your stomach, where the butterflies used to live. 

“You can do better than him. You deserve better than him. You deserve someone who knows that you take extra sugar in your coffee when you’re studying. Someone who knows that you’re a completely evil genius in the best way possible when it comes to D&D. Someone who knows you’d rather be in bed with a book at-” he glanced at his watch, “nine o’clock at night. Someone who apparently isn’t very good at making the first move.”

“You’re clueless, you know that?”

“I am?”

“Yeah,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him again.

If it wasn’t for Ruben who knows how long you would have stood there, entwined together, lost in the moment.

“Hey man, you heading home?” Eddie asked casually, placing a little distance between the two of you.

“I was, but turns out I’m staying late. Guy with the hair on table twelve tipped me a hundred bucks to finish your bar shift and fetch a fresh brownie out. Said you ‘owe him one’ and you can ‘square it up later’. Brownie will be out in five. Enjoy.”

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

vi. do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

— the one where he ain't reading what they call you lately.

warnings: anxiety tics and symptoms, i–unironically–listened to the lakes a lot while writing this. 3k words.

masterlist ✢ next

By Marie Nichols

The first news we got about actress y/n y/ln's new romance came at the start of this month, when she was seen at the Miami Grand Prix with Ferrari's sponsor Elix. What appeared to be only rumors, since y/n and Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc were single at the same time, have been confirmed little by little.

Although it is not like y/n to soft-launch a relationship, she's been hinting at it for several weeks now. From staring lovingly at her new boyfriend as he receives the winner's trophy in Monaco's Grand Prix to instagram posts saying she 'feels like a princess', the last confirmation we needed came yesterday when Twitter went crazy over user @/formulacharles' picture of the new couple, on a romantic date around Monaco.

Opinions are divided on this couple as both #y/nIsOverParty and #YNCHARLES trended at the same time. Most of the negative views on this flourishing romance come from Aidan Kim's fans, who claim it has been happening since before Kim and y/ln broke up around March after dating for three years.

We have gathered some of the best tweets from both sides, to help us make up our minds about the whole situation.

❝@/aidankimluv: I can't believe y/n is rubbing her new relationship in everyone's faces like this! she can't be single and it shows❞

❝@/gr4ndekim: the timing still rubs me off the wrong way, this has been happening for way longer than she wants us to know❞

❝@/ynselixcan I need y'all to touch grass for a second and realize men and women can be friends, and if they are dating it's none of your business anyway❞

❝@/leclercsdiary: they are cute together but tbh without knowing much about y/n... i don't want her to mess with charles' head❞

We are still hoping for an official confirmation, although pictures speak for themselves. Will y/n ever be brave enough to admit she dumped Aidan Kim for a Formula 1 pilot? We'll keep you updated!

FROM F1GOSSIPXO ON TIKTOK: "FANS CAUGHT Y/N AND CHARLES ON A DATE IN MONACO"

[text to speech assistant voice]: ❝(...) someone on twitter took this picture of them at a famous rose garden in Monaco and the second clip is charles dropping y/n off back at her hotel. i guess all the rumors are true and we have a new grid couple... a frankly problematic couple at that.❞

May 30th, Montecarlo, Monaco.

It was, in all honesty, a little dumb to believe that you could keep it lowkey if you were going to hang out with Charles.

First, Victoria who normally remembers close to nothing about the nights she gets drunk, remembered perfectly the 'moment' you shared with Charles when he offered to show you around. The whole rebound conversation happened again, much to your dismay.

Then, there was the car. Charles' custom Pista Spider is quite literally, the opposite of lowkey and apparently the only option he was willing to offer for you two to move around Monaco.

Which makes perfect sense, no matter how much you hate it.

There was also the timing. Which was really, really bad, and you blame your ignoring this on the fact that you had a lot to drink the night you said yes to his offer. On a normal basis Charles is the most sought after person in Monaco, him being the Grand Prix winner from two days before, multiplied the attention by a million.

Yet when he called you on Monday night to make sure you were still up for the next day, you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no. He was being nice and friendly, and you had no reason to deny him other than the anxiety you felt in the back of your neck every time you thought about what people would say if they found out.

And people would find out, sooner or later.

But you are not committing a crime, you tell yourself in front of the mirror. Charles is becoming your friend, which is something you really, really need at this point in your life. Granted, befriending the guy that you’re tangled up in rumors with isn’t the best idea, it’s neither your fault nor his.

So you take a deep breath and fix your hair for the last time before leaving your hotel room. Charles called you a few minutes before to let you know he is waiting in the lobby, and you can feel your palms sweating already.

Charles is nodding attentively to a child with a Ferrari cap who is telling him all about his Monaco GP experience when you step out of the lift.

He waves at you, and his eyes register your appearance in seconds before they return to the child.

“This is my friend y/n,” he tells the little boy as you approach. “She’s a huge Ferrari fan, too.”

The boy smiles brightly and his focus shifts to you, asking what your favorite part of the Grand Prix was and whether you think they can win in Spain. You give him the best answer you can come up with, that the best part was seeing Charles win (to which both Charles and the boy smile) and that yes, you believe it’s Carlos’ turn to win his home race.

Once Charles finishes signing his merch and he makes sure the kid has returned to his parents safely, his whole attention is devoted to you.

“You are really pretty,” he smiles, his accent coming out in the way he pronounces “pretty”.

Lowkey is the word of the day, and that’s also what you had in mind when picking your outfit. A sage green sundress with matching short-heeled shoes. Nothing too garish, but that still makes you feel confident.

“Thank you, you look good yourself.”

It’s a half-assed compliment that comes out of your mouth out of sheer anxiety. He looks incredibly handsome in a light blue shirt that brings out the blue in his eyes and a decent pair of jeans instead of the horrible ones he wore on Sunday.

Charles smiles wider, "Thank you, y/n."

You bite the inside of your cheek in embarrassment, and Charles' eyes go small in amusement.

"Are you ready?" he asks, ending your torment as you feel heat creep up your neck. Charles hesitates in offering his arm to you, and instead puts his palm out for you to walk in front of him.

You nod, starting the walk towards the exit. His car is right outside the door to the hotel, and there are people surrounding it, taking pictures and craning their necks to look inside. It's your turn to hesitate as you stop in your tracks, Charles' chest millimeters away from your body as he comes to an abrupt stop and avoids crashing into you.

"Let me," he says, his semblance more serious as he moves you aside gently. The doorman nods at him and opens the door.

Your anxiety rises as Charles leads you out of the hotel, apologizing in both French and Italian about not taking pictures as he opens the car door for you.

He continues smiling and saying 'thank you' and 'i'm sorry' as he walks around the car, to the driver's seat and climbs inside. The car offers little protection from the outside, but you're grateful for whatever refuge. It's not like you to act like this, but wherever your name appears on the internet lately is full of vile stuff. The mere thought of it makes your hands shake, you're afraid of what they're going to say this time.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, watching you put your hands on your lap, palms down so the skirt of the dress wipes your sweat.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reassure, more to yourself than to him. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Charles smiles again, shoulders relaxing as he steers the car away from the crowd.

You look at him, feigning insecurity and he frowns for a moment before you chuckle. "Don't worry, I love surprises."

"What do you think of Monaco so far?" he asks, squeezing the wheel a couple times. If you didn't know better, you'd think he is nervous too.

"Are you kidding? It's beautiful. The Grand Prix was something else, and everywhere I look there's luxury." You gesture around, but the prime example is the car you're riding right now, and the driver who's wearing a $2 million watch.

Charles laughs and nods, "It never stops being beautiful, no matter how much time you spend here. I miss it every time I'm away."

You understand. Because you miss New York so much, it doesn't matter how overrated people say it is. It's become your home and you hate being away from it, especially considering the circumstances that exiled you.

The very good thing about Monaco is that car rides are short. So when you get to your destination, you've barely had time to make things awkward with small talk.

You wait patiently for him to walk to your door and open it once you’ve parked. Charles has put on a pair of sunglasses and you think it’s a shame you can’t see his blue eyes anymore. You discard this thought immediately though, you’re not going to think like this about someone you’re befriending.

“So?” You ask taking his hand as he helps you out of the car. “What place were you so keen on showing me?”

Charles holds on to your hand for a moment too long, and you stare down at them. He lets go, repeating the gesture from earlier to let you walk in front.

“It’s a rose garden,” he begins explaining, leaning a bit forward so he doesn’t raise his voice. “The Princess’ Rose Garden, I saw your picture saying you felt like a princess. I thought you would like it.”

You turn around to face him and this time he isn’t quick enough to avoid crashing in to you. So much for an F1 Pilot’s reflexes.

“You’re not allergic to flowers are you?” He questions, the panicked undertone makes you smile. “y/n?”

“No!” You throw your head back laughing, “I just think it’s adorable how you related the ideas.”

There is a newly installed shade of pink in Charles’ cheeks and he runs a hand through his hair, sheepish. “Well, I’m glad I got it right.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling and you are genuinely so excited so clap your hands a little. “The Princess’ Rose Garden! Let’s go!”

Charles still lets you lead, following wherever you go and translating whatever signs aren’t in English already. He too, is genuinely happy to see you so bubbly and excited as you marvel at the colors of the flowers and the arches, and the statues. He’s proud of himself for picking the right place.

“Let me take a picture of you,” he says, as you walk through a white arch speaking excitedly about how this reminds you of Alice in Wonderland. “y/n?”

You look at him over your shoulder with a smile and he snaps the picture before you can react properly or pose.

“Oh no Charles, delete that!” You whine, walking back to him to look at his phone.

“No, you look perfect,” he replies, showing you his screen. “See?” He does not regret a word that has come out of his mouth and it makes you pause, face warming up at the statement.

“Let me take a picture of you, then,” you say, pointing him towards the arch. He’s quick to comply, walking towards the arch and smiling at you, without looking at the camera.

You show him the screen of your phone and he seems satisfied with the picture, as he doesn’t ask you to retake it.

“Should we go down to the lake?” He asks signaling down the path.

You nod, putting your phone back in your purse and resisting the temptation to look at the notifications that crowd your lock screen.

Charles takes your hand once again as you arrive at the lake.

"You might slip in the grass," he explains, clearing his throat.

"Right," you chuckle, but he's right, the little hill you have to pass to get to the edge of the lake looks like a worthy rival to your heels. You know who'd be losing. "Thanks."

You sit down so close your shoulders are touching, but neither moves or speaks for a few minutes. Taking in the way the golden hour falls in the garden, the sun reflects off the surface of the lake and colors your face amber.

You're glad Charles has removed his sunglasses, because you can see his eyes again. The green is more visible now thanks to the golden in the environment.

"Thanks for bringing me here," you finally break the silence, "I really like it."

"I'm glad, y/n," he says, both dimples showing as he smiles. "I'm sorry I couldn't show you more places, though."

All Monday and a big part of today he was busy with interviews and photoshoots, all to celebrate his breaking the Monaco curse. You don't mind, he deserves to be celebrated.

"Maybe another time," you add.

"Whenever you want," his smile widens, and you have to look away from him. Your brain is swarmed in thoughts of how pretty he is, and you wish you could just leave it blank for a minute or two. "Thank you for agreeing to come."

The impulse of saying something that will ruin the mood is greater than your self-control, and curiosity keeps eating you from the inside since last Thursday.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Charles nods calmly, resting his chin on his hand as he faces you. "Anything."

"Do you really not care about... well, what everyone is saying?"

Charles tilts his head slowly, and frowns. "About what?"

"Me. You. Us." you whisper the last word, embarrassed. It feels a lot like 'Us' means something completely different than just being thrown together in a hurriance of wild rumors and lies.

"I don't," Charles doesn't even hesitate, "I don't read all of that. Carlos keeps me up to date, which is ridiculous."

You pinch your thigh lightly, ashamed that even his teammate knows everything that's been said about you.

It's the first time all evening that Charles wishes he could take his words back. "What I mean," he continues quickly, "Is that I don't let people on the internet form my opinion on someone, you, especially."

You return your gaze to him, "I'm sorry people have dragged you into this."

"You don't have to apologize for things that aren't your fault, y/n."

"Well, it does feel like it's my fault." You admit, and you hate the way your eyes sting, you don't want to cry in front of Charles. You really are ruining the whole mood.

"Is there anything you'd like me to do?" Charles is more serious now, trying to catch your avoidant eyes as you blink the tears away. "Something you want me to say? Because I will."

You shake your head no. You don't want him to actively participate in this mess, it's a PR nightmare and Ferrari and him have enough on their plates already.

"Unless you want to say something, Charles."

"There is a lot I want to say," he mutters through gritted teeth, and you're not quite sure what he means.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he repeats, more lighthearted this time. "And stop whatever it is that you're reading about yourself, too."

"I'm not—"

Charles shuts you down with a look, there is no point in lying to him when, like Mati, he's weirdly capable of seeing right through you.

"You're sweet and talented, and hard-working, and many other positive things I'm hoping to continue witnessing first-hand." He speaks so fast his accent slips in several words.

"Thank you." you say sincerely, and you reach for his hand for the first time ever, giving it a squeeze before letting it go, something he accepts albeit reluctantly.

You sit together for a while longer, the awkwardness from your previous moments together alone is a distant idea, as you don't need to fill the silence anymore. Charles doesn't make your hands sweat in the way that feels wrong, your fingers don't prickle or go numb, your heartbeat—although fast—doesn't make your chest feel tight.

It's okay, you remind yourself, Charles likes you enough.

"Hello?" you're taking your shoes off, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder.

"y/n!" Vic yells, making you wince, your phone clatters to the floor and you're glad the rug breaks the fall. "Are you back from your date?"

"It was not a date, Vic," you opt to put her on speakerphone, "And yes, I'm back."

"How was it? I saw on Twitter that you were in a garden? Was it cute?"

You sigh, of course this is on Twitter already. "Vic, I'm so serious right now, stop with the Twitter stuff."

"Sorry y/n," she sighs, her tone like a regretful child apologizing to their mom. "But my timeline is just full of them, honestly, I wish I could just reply to people and tell them to back off."

"Just ignore them, please, Vic,"

"I promise. But how was it, your not date?"

"It was great," you immediately regret the sigh that escapes your lips. "Charles is very nice, and the place was super pretty. We went to dinner after which was pretty cool too."

"That is a date, y/n," Vic giggles, "That's amazing! I'm glad you had a good time."

"Thank you," you let yourself fall back on the bed. It was not a date. The anxiety that Charles had helped soothe is back now, it feels like cold water running down your back. "What about you, what did you do today?"

It's 10 pm in Monaco, which means it's around 1 pm in Los Angeles.

Vic starts going off about her day, how she hates the smell of the new face cream she was supposed to release to the public two weeks ago, her trip to the gym with Holly and that other girl whose name you finally learn again—Deanna.

"When are you coming back to LA?" she asks.

You're picking up your stuff from around the room, you have to take a flight tomorrow and you'd rather sleep in, than wake up early to finish your packing.

"Soon I hope," you yawn. It makes no difference to you, spending time in hotel rooms and Vic's house, neither are home. So you're not rushing to go back to her.

"y/n, you promised you'd be here for the opening of the store," Vic is serious now. "You promised."

Closing your eyes, you battle that uncomfortable feeling on your hands. You're sure that you won't get any proper sleep if it doesn't go away.

The opening of Vic's first Presley Beauty store is on Friday, the same Friday you're going to be in Spain.

"I know Vic, I'm sorry. But I have to be with Elix, violating a contract at this point is not a good idea."

"Babe, you said you'd be the ambassador for the first store. People will come if you're there!"

You're not too sure of that right now. Maybe people would show up to throw tomatoes at you, if anything.

"I really am sorry, Vic."

She falls silent on the other side for a few minutes, and you continue packing, waiting for her to gather her feelings. You know you're in the wrong here, breaking a promise to your best friend, but you'd rather not mess up the only job you have right now. Plus, you are certain the publicity her very first store would get from you wouldn't be a good one right now.

"Okay, apology accepted," Vic exhales so hard it makes the microphone crackle. "But you do have to come to the store later, PROMISE ME."

"I promise. I'll be back in LA next Monday and I'll go straight to your store and steal everything."

Vic laughs and you're glad her anger has vanished.

"I'll call you tomorrow, okay? After I land in Spain."

"Sure babes," Vic is her cheerful self again, "Have fun and also, say hello to Charles for me."

You roll you eyes. "Bye Vic, love you."

"I love you too, babe."

For the first time in days, you turn your phone off before getting ready for bed. You are not going to scroll endlessly through hashtags with your name. You're not going to read what they're calling you lately, because your friends—at least some of them— aren't.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello hello, thank you for reading! i hope you've enjoyed this chapter. The slow burn is slow burning friends. I would love to know your thoughts.♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar-2 @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heesung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl

want to join the paddock club? click here!

[unicyclehippo]

Hmmm...how about a one word prompt of...Skin?

for @possibilistfanfiction i hope it makes u laugh

//

two

//

every week, superion talks to beatrice late tuesday night. at the end of every call, she asks to speak to you and you let her.

are you struggling with anything? she’ll ask, or what has your week been like? or, how are you, ava? she doesn’t ask that one often because it makes you hang up on her fast. like. what the fuck are you supposed to do? she says your name nicely, makes it sound like she wants to know about you, not the halo, and yeah. it’s a bit much to deal with.

‘we went to the thrift shop,’ you tell her week two, ‘and spent half the money you sent us on clothes. beatrice got new pyjamas.’ from the kitchen, beatrice sends you a betrayed look. you wave at her. you’re not going to tell superion that you picked out boxers for her—black, comfortable—and that you think you’re going to have a heart attack every night because beatrice has surprisingly buff legs, toned, and the first time she came out of the bathroom in boxers you had to put your hands under your head, pin them down with your heavy fucking skull so you didn’t touch her legs, her knees. how knees could be sweet, you have no fucking clue, but beatrice’s knees are sweet, soft in repose and then sharp and strong when she moves and. yeah. anyway.

‘i’ve never bought clothes before,’ you tell superion, and beatrice looks startled and a little sad and you laugh because it’s funny, actually, not sad. ‘i stole the hottest dress from this rich lady’s house—um, borrowed, i mean. they don’t really have high fashion here but i picked up some cute stuff. right, bea?’ beatrice ducks her head. ‘she says yes and also wants to know if spending this money means i’m your sugar baby now. or the pope’s. ow! okay, she didn’t say that but she did throw a pen at me. i’m your halobearer, that’s so rude!’

‘phase through it next time,’ beatrice suggests, and almost smiles when you flip her off.

//

‘hello, ava. is there anything you wish to talk about tonight?’

you have been thinking of things to say all week that’ll make superion hang up on you and so, when you pluck the phone out of beatrice’s hand, you’re grinning. she picks up on your energy and excuses herself to the bathroom.

‘so much. where to start? bea has been kicking my ass in training. i think she’s enjoying it. is that allowed? i thought nuns were supposed to not enjoy things.’

‘i’m sure any and all enjoyment pertains to the pleasure all instructors feel when their student shows improvement.’

‘no,’ you muse. beatrice is for sure eavesdropping so you raise your voice a little and say, ‘i think she’s a sadist.’

the bathroom door slides open half an inch, just enough for beatrice to shoot a forbidding look out at you. it’s undermined by the way some of her hair hangs free of her bun and the toothpaste smeared at the corner of her mouth and she’s brushing neatly and you want so badly to squash up next to her and clean your teeth there with her, in your stupidly small bathroom, so you forget all your nun jokes you’ve prepared and say,

‘all good here, supes. catch you next week,’ and hang up on her.

beatrice is in boxers that show off her knees. her sleep shirt is tucked into the waistband of her boxers, which is so endearing you think you might explode. you press your fingers to her hip and nudge her away from the sink so you can get in there and wet your brush. you do the same thing every night. she ought to know by now. she does know by now. you think she wants you to touch her, to lay your hand gently on her hip and make her space into your space. the toothpaste is minty and froths up as you brush enthusiastically. beatrice swishes her mouthwash. puts her hand on your wrist. you obediently shuffle away from the sink so she can spit neatly into it. 

‘short conversation with mother superion tonight.’

you shrug. ‘tired, i guess.’ it’s half true. you would have happily made a nuisance of yourself but tonight, you just want to brush your teeth next to beatrice and go to bed.

‘am i pushing you too hard?’

you consider the question. tuck your hair behind your ears so it doesn’t get in the way when you bend, spit into the sink too, like beatrice did. rinse. wash your brush, strick it into the polka dot toothbrush holder on the counter.

‘i want to learn. i’ll do whatever i have to do.’ beatrice eyes you like you’ve said something really interesting, which is worrisome because you don’t know what about that was interesting. ‘bedtime. wanna be little spoon tonight?’

beatrice goes pink at the offer and you can’t resist lifting a hand to her cheek, to touch it. she doesn’t pull away, but her eyes go wide.

‘sorry.’

‘no, sorry,’ you say almost immediately. ‘um. i’ll check the front door is locked.’ you run out of the bathroom, through to the kitchen and the front door. thunk your head hard against the wood and swear under your breath. blindly reach for the door handle. turn it gently. it hits the lock and you release it. you stand there for a few long minutes, hearing the sounds of the bedsheets and beatrice shuffling and the click of the lamp turning off and then the apartment is dark and still and there’s a longing right on the centre of your tongue, dry and empty like a wafer sucking the moisture from your mouth, and you want to pick up the phone and tell superion, i want to live. i don’t want beatrice to teach me how to fight, i don’t want you to know my name, i want this to be real. a home in the mountains and a girl who wants me to touch her. 

beatrice pretends to be asleep when you finally join her, crawling into bed and pulling the sheets up to your shoulders. you’re always careful about touching her, when and where you do it, and tonight is no exception.

‘bea?’ you whisper.

‘yes, ava?’

‘can i –‘ you reach over. hover your hand over her forearm.

beatrice shuffles in the bed. the lamps in the street outside are dim and they have covers that keep the light shining down to the street instead of filling the sky. it’s not enough to see beatrice by. you light the halo—the tiniest bit—and her expression goes awed and nervous all at once.

‘you shouldn’t.’

touch her? use the halo?

‘i want to. feels good.’ beatrice breaths out. she won’t say it, and won’t ask you, but when you move your hand to hover over her wrist, sidle close enough to hold her, she doesn’t stop you. ‘g’dnight, bea.’

‘goodnight, ava. sleep well.’

//

‘good evening, ava. i trust you are well?’

‘we got jobs!’

‘beatrice informed me.’

‘of course she did,’ you roll your eyes. catch sight of the brim of the pink cowboy hat still squashed onto your head you had been given tonight as a prize, the only thing you had wanted. it's a little small, maybe made for a kid, but whatever. ‘did she tell you it’s at a bar? she doesn’t drink but she’s killing it at the books. i don’t have the same hang ups – hans is teaching me everything about being a great bartender and it involves a lot of alcohol. i can – he’s german and i drunk him under the table. i think the halo helped. do you – can the halo heal being drunk, do you think? did i cheat? maybe i should give him this hat back.’

‘i will ask you not to test the limits of the halo in this manner.’

‘i know, i know, control the halo, don’t draw attention, blah blah blah—bea already gave me the speech. i’m being safe. it was just some fun, mother,’ you tease, feeling loose and good and happy. ‘the hat suits me, though. it’s pink.’

superion’s smile bleeds into her voice. you grin, imagining it. a smile on that stern face. that’s the best, that’s one of the things you love the most, making people smile, making people laugh, especially when you have to find the right way to come at it. this feels almost too easy? you’re just…telling her about your day and your job and the hat you won but you know that she’s smiling and you’re a little drunk so you decide not to think about whether she likes you or is showing some softer side of herself for your benefit and just enjoy it. 

‘you are entitled to some fun, ava.’

‘tell bea that. and her too. she can have fun too. she doesn’t have to drink, just relax a tiny bit. right?’

‘sister beatrice will attend her duty as she sees fit, you know that. and,’ she adds dryly, ‘i believe she is more likely to listen to you when it comes to relaxation.’

‘what you’re saying is i need to convince her. i need to tempt her.’

superion sighs. ‘drink some water, please, ava. look after yourself. and beatrice.’

‘yeah, always.’

//

there’s a girl who comes to your bar to flirt with you specifically. you know that because she told you, because she pressed her teeth to the pink of her lip and pressed against the hardwood bar, leaning over it to give you a good—really good—view of her chest and for a second you’d forgotten that there was anyone else in the bar when she looked at you so intently. and she told you.

‘you know i’ve been flirting with you, right?’

‘you? no way, this is a huge surprise,’ you’d teased, because she’s been super unsubtle.

the other night, she’d let the condensation from her beer bottle drip onto her chest and asked so sweetly for a napkin and laughed when you went tongue-tied and clumsy, dropping the cocktail shaker. which was fine because it was empty but it had clanged on the stone floor and hans had looked over with this stupidly knowing grin and only laughed when you flipped him off. 

‘sometimes girls don’t know,’ she’d shrugged. ‘and i don’t like to waste my time. you like girls?’

you spin the beer bottle in your hand, because it’s a fun trick and because it makes girls look at your hands. dani is no exception. you haven’t said it out loud before but you want to. should you wait for a special moment? or does the moment become special when you say it?

‘girls are incredible,’ is what you end up saying. it’s not that you’re scared, it’s just that beatrice isn’t here and some part of you kind of expected to say it to her first, the way she’d shared that with you. 

dani doesn’t take it as a cop out, thank god. she grins, big and bold, and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. ‘yeah. incredible. let me take you out, ava—dinner, dancing, drinks. what do you say?’

you should say no. for multiple reasons, but chief among them the fact that when dani used her water on her tits trick, you’d thought about beatrice and what her reaction would be if you tried it on her. probably, it’s a dick move to think about another girl when one is being so kind as to show you her tits. but. beatrice is a nun and dani is not. super not. she’s portuguese and taller than you—most people are, to be fair—and you like that the bar is lifted over where the customers sit so she has to look up at you, but you also like looking up at her and the way she crowds you a little, smirks down at you when you sit a little sluttily on the barstool next to her, hand on her knee. she wears, like, a dozen silver rings and her earrings dangle and glitter when she shakes her head, which she does when you make her laugh really hard, and when you think about kissing her it’s, yeah. good. it makes you a little tongue-tied and you stumble over your words and dani looks at you like she knows what you were thinking about which is. yeah. good. 

you say yes.

//

'—compromising our mission here, compromising the halo, compromising herself—'

'whoa! where does the halo come into this? i'm not whipping my top off for her, it's a date.'

beatrice glares at you. she's standing tall and straight—well, rigid—and with the dark clouds gathering outside the window you're a little worried god will mistake her for a lightning rod, but mostly you're worried that you've actually hurt her by agreeing to go on this date. but then she goes and says,

'this is a stupid risk, you can't just - just--'

and you hate being called stupid so instead of trying to calm her down, you rise up to meet her. 'just what? say yes when a girl asks me out?'

'yes!'

'why not?' beatrice glares over your head, unable to meet your eyes. 'give me the phone.'

'what? no!'

'yes, give me the phone.'

'i'm still debriefing mother s—'

'give me the phone or i'll debrief on my date,' you tell her, and you can feel the anger and spite spitting on your tongue and sparking in your eyes. now she does meet your eyes; hers are black with fury, her jaw tense, and you're doubly pissed because you'd said yes to the date because dani is hot and has this quick flirty humour and because she looked at you like she could eat you up and it's a hell of a feeling to be on the receiving end of a look like that, but beatrice... beatrice is pissed and you're nearly positive it isn't because of the mission, and god, whatever your rules are about thinking nuns are hot, she looks hot with her jaw clenched and the muscles of her neck and shoulders tense like she's thinking about keeping you from the door by whatever means necessary. but she is a nun and you're not an asshole, or entirely selfish, so you said yes to dani because if you can't kiss the girl you like, you should be able to kiss a girl you like. right? 

beatrice flicks a look over your outfit—high-waisted jeans, a shirt that shrunk in the one laundry load you did so now it shows off a decent strip of belly, and a blue sweater tied around your waist that you'd found over the back of the couch, in case it ends up raining—and she scowls.

'fine. fine.'

she grabs your wrist. your skin sears where she touches you—god, is this allowed? is this allowed? i'm gonna be thinking about this tonight in my alone time, is this allowed, dude?—and you open your hand, you'll take whatever she'll give you. you're so startled by her hand on you that you forget to be angry. if she weren't a nun, if she were a little more open, if she liked you the way you like her... 

she drops the phone into your hand. it’s heavy and you nearly drop it, focused on—god forgive you, or better yet, mind your own fucking business dude—her. ask me out. ask me on a date. look at me like you want to push me against the brick wall outside where we work together and kiss me. she must see some of that in your eyes because she drags in a shaky breath and all the anger leaves her. she doesn’t move away. you look at her lips. 

‘ava…’

your thumb flickers to mute the phone. ‘tell me not to go.’

beatrice huffs. ‘you want to.’

‘i’ll stay. i won’t go. if you ask.’

her hand goes to your hip. you want to know how much of her hand can fit there, on your skin where your top rides up. but she doesn’t touch you, even though you’re aching for it, even though she can see that you’re aching for it. it’s like there’s an invisible barrier that blocks her from moving those last few centimetres. 

‘i’m taking a shift tonight,’ she says. ‘hans is sick.’

‘oh.’

‘i won’t be home. after. i’ll be back tomorrow,’ she says hurriedly, before your heart can totally break. ‘but not tonight.’

‘i’m not bringing her home. you know that, right?’

‘it would be fine if you did,’ beatrice lies, and pushes past you into the kitchen to collect her things. 

you let her go. lift the phone to your ear. 

‘hey. what’s the company policy on halobearers going out with girls? also, like, your personal policy. not that it fucking matters, i’m gonna do it anyway, but i suppose i’m curious. lesbians…thoughts?’

beatrice slams the front door behind her. 

superion doesn't talk straight away—ha. you hear a chair dragging on stone and then a creak as she sits. 

'well,' she says, and you forget about beatrice as much as you can because superion doesn't sound angry or disgusted. only considering. and this question isn’t totally about beatrice, it’s about you too, and you don’t care what superion thinks of you, you don’t. but. 'there is nothing written to specifically bar halobearers from dating girls.' nuns, on the other hand, she doesn't say but you hear it loud and clear. 'as for my personal policies... they revolve around, and are cemented in, caring for and protecting my order and my girls.’

‘what kind of protection?’

‘physical and emotional strength is paramount, as you know. if you are being safe, and if it is something that will make you happy, then i have no reason to forbid it.’

you think on that for a minute. then, in a small voice you don’t recognise, you ask her, ‘are you excited for me? can you be excited for me?’ tears sting your eyes and the back of your throat prickles with heat like you’ve drunk hot sauce again, or whiskey, and before superion can say anything, you break in again with, ‘i’m going to be late,’ kind of brusquely. ‘bye.’

//

after dinner and dancing and drinks, all the things she had promised, dani offers to walk you home. 

you lean back against a lamppost and wind your fingers into the lapels of her lilac blazer and tug her forward, kiss her eagerly. the streetlight is almost the same warm gold as the halo, which is snug and silent between your shoulders. dani tastes like coffee, from her espresso martini. she kisses you, bold and unafraid. you’ve thought a couple times tonight about going home with her and you think about it again now, about letting her walk you home, about holding her hand as you let her into the apartment and pushing the same hand down the front of your jeans, into the underwear you bought new for precisely this reason, to where you’re slick between your legs and wanting but–

‘this was fun,’ you tell her, panting just a little. 

she groans. kisses your jaw, your neck. fuck. ‘why does it sound like you’re saying goodnight?’

‘i - well - you’re making it fucking hard -’ you say, and laugh, and your stomach twists a little because if you had said that to bea she would press her lips together and shake her head and the way her laugh escapes as a huff makes you feel like you could walk over oceans, shoot up into the fucking sky. you make that joke in front of dani and she laughs, sure, but then half a second later her teeth are on your skin over your pulse and neither of you are thinking about the joke. which is fair. but while you want dani to touch you, she doesn’t make you feel like you can take on the world. she kiss you again. puts her hands on your waist, thumbs sliding up to brush over your belly. hands sliding up until her thumbs are dipping beneath your shirt, fingers wrapping around your hips, and you feel fucking incredible, delicate and wanted and hot. but. 

‘dani, fuck -’

‘yeah, i know, saying goodnight.’ she sounds pretty wrecked too, which is a huge boost to your self-esteem because all you’re doing is clinging to her but apparently that’s fine. ‘you’re sure i can’t walk you to your door?’

‘if you walked me back, i’d take you upstairs,’ you tell her, and put a hand to her chest, push her gently away. ‘which - i had a lot of fun, but i can’t.’

dani nods. ���text me when you get home though.’

‘of course, yeah.’

she takes a step back. out of the halo of the streetlight. you rake your eyes over her—she turned up in matching lilac blazer and slacks with this tiny white crop under the blazer and perfectly white sneakers, a few silver necklaces—and it reminds you a little of seeing doctor salvius for the first time, honestly, in her full pantsuit moment, and maybe you have a thing for women who look like they know what the fuck they want and how to get it. 

‘fuck.’

‘baby, i’m trying.’

you flip her off and push away from the lamppost. ‘thanks for tonight. i had a really good time.’

she smiles and watches you leave. you look back when you reach the end of the road and she’s still there, waves. 

by the time you get into the apartment, you’re considerably more drunk than you’d felt when you left the bar. you get the door unlocked, kick it closed behind you, and text dani as you struggle out of your jeans, kicking them vaguely in the direction of the wardrobe.

made it home thx for tonight

she doesn’t answer immediately. which is fair, she was drunk too and maybe she went back into the bar or whatever and you don’t really care but beatrice isn’t home and the apartment is quiet and cold and you’re standing pantless in the middle of the room and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut when you realise that you’re sad. it’s not fair. it’s not fair. 

the phone is hidden away under a loose floorboard, because of course it is. you hear the wood snap as you peel it up. you’re alive and super strong and drunk and it's fine, the phone shouldn't be hidden away anyway, you shouldn't be hidden away. you pull it out, call the only number programmed into this stupid, bulky phone. 

‘beatrice?’ 

‘no, it’s me.’

‘ah, ava. hello.’ 

you climb to your knees, push onto your feet. she sounds fine that you’ve called, totally unbothered. ‘i’m not struggling,’ you tell her. 

‘i’m glad to hear it.’

‘i’m fine.’ 

she’s quiet. you think about her towering over you. i know you killed yourself. you are a coward. you think about her standing in front of you, putting herself between you and harm. you are worthy. you are. 

‘i’m fine,’ you say again, anger hot on your tongue, hot down your spine. ‘i’ve been fine this whole fucking time but you keep asking so, so if you don’t believe me, let me tell you and maybe you’ll listen this time. i am fine. i’m not struggling. we’re hiding away from the fight and camila is in danger all the time and mary is gone and you - you talk to me but you don’t know me! you don’t know anything about me, and i know you don’t because you still think i’m going to run, or kill myself, but i never did, i never did and i won’t so stop asking me about my fucking life.’

‘ava,’ 

‘and stop saying my name! scolding me? poor crippled girl out on the streets—i have a job! i have friends! i’m really not fucking interested in what you think of me! fuck. you’re all the same. you nuns…you think b-because i’m not on my knees, crying and praying that i’m not grateful? i died! i’m alive! i’m grateful. you want me to thank you? you w-want me to learn how to be perfect from bea so that i’m worthy of the halo? so you don’t decide you’ve had enough of me? lighten the fucking burden of me? fuck perfection, fuck worthiness, fuck your god, and fuck your halo!’ you yell into the phone. anger stings your lungs; there’s not enough space around it for all the air you need. 

‘breathe, ava.’ superion’s voice is muffled by distance and the crackling of the phone line and the dizzy swirl of your head. ‘ava,’ she says more sharply. ‘breathe.’

you breathe in. 

‘good. again.’

you breathe in again, til your chest hurts with it. stumble over to the couch and curl into the arm of it, hand on your chest, feeling the trembling of your muscles, the desperation of your body to breathe, to live. 

superion can hear when you settle a little. ‘i am sorry. my questions have never been about doubt.’ you scoff. ‘if you had come to the OCS another way, i would have asked you these things. i would have taken the time to know you. it is not doubt, ava.’

‘then what the fuck is it?’

‘it is care.’

‘fuck you.’

‘ava,’ 

‘no! fuck you. you’re not my mother.’ you want to cry. you want your scars back. you want anything that tells you you’ve been wanted even once, even if it’s that—a sick, dreamy, drowning memory of a twisting road by the ocean, and scars where a parade of people worked to save your life. your skin is blemish free. ‘i had a mother.’ you pick yourself up from the couch. slam through the kitchen cupboards until you find the vodka hans gifted you. you pour a shot into a stripey mug, clear liquid sloshing onto the tabletop. ‘i had a mother and she died and you’re not her. and the nun who cared for me killed me twice, you know. so. fuck.’ you throw back the shot. it stings. ‘you’re not my mother and i hate your stupid god and you don’t get to care about me. i don’t care. i don’t care. it’s not fair. my mum would—i could’ve told her, i could’ve come home to her. hey mum, i went on a date with a girl tonight and it was really nice. but i can’t tell her because she’s dead and you’re a shitty substitute.’

you drink again. and then—because the anger doesn’t feel as good as you hoped it would and doesn’t do anything about the sadness unspooling in your stomach, glossy and tangled like the tape out of a cassette—you twist the cap back onto the vodka and set it back into the cupboard. 

superion says, ‘i’m not your mother. that’s true. but i am here to listen to you, and guide you. and i was unduly harsh on you but there is no doubt in my mind or my heart that you are worthy, not only of the halo but of the extraordinary life you will lead. and i am sorry that you cannot kiss someone and go home and call your mother.’

you’re standing, still pantless, in the kitchen and superion is being nice to you when you’ve just yelled at her more than you’ve yelled at anyone, ever. you sniffle. ‘a girl. kiss a girl and call my mother.’

‘yes. a girl.’

‘that’s important.’

‘i understand.’

‘it’s scary,’ you admit. ‘but it’s really awesome. and - and i don’t want to give any time to people and the church who think it’s a sin, i really don’t. because there are people who think - who have been made to think that it is a sin, that they’re bad and they’re not. they’re really wonderful, they’re beautiful and incredible and good. and i know you have faith in something, i don’t want - i don’t want to disrespect that - you love god and that’s cool or whatever. but if god has a plan for me, it’s shitty and it hurt and it’s not fair and i don’t want - i don’t believe in anything that cruel, i’m not going to and you can’t make me.’ you’re really tired all of a sudden. and very drunk. ‘i want my mum. do you have - you can talk to the pope, right? can he talk to god for me? can he make sure my mum is happy? i don’t believe but i think she did. can you - can you tell me if she’s happy? do you think she’d be proud of me?’

superion’s voice is thick with something you are too drunk to decipher. ‘yes, ava. she would.’ you feel turned inside out. like she’s touching raw, exposed nerves when she says, ‘thank you for talking to me.’

‘had to get drunk ‘n’ sad to do it. hooray.’ 

‘please drink some water and ensure the door is locked.’

‘’kay.’ you shuffle around to lock the door. pour a glass of water. it spills a little down your front but, whatever, it’s just water. ‘okay,’ you say again when you’re done. ‘sorry. for yelling.’

‘you are forgiven. and ava… you are fine. you are good. you do not believe, but i do, that God has made you in His image.’

‘wow. god’s really hot, huh? that’s cool.’ 

//

you sleep. beatrice is home when you wake up, sitting at the kitchen table with a book, a bowl of cut-up fruit, and a croissant. you don’t have a headache—thanks, halo—but your mouth is dry like you’ve eaten a mouthful of fucking sand and when you stumble out of bed to dunk your head in the kitchen sink, drinking straight from the table, she watches you, hawk-eyed. 

it’s only when you stand, wipe your chin with your wrist, and flop into the chair opposite beatrice, stealing a piece of her fruit, that you realise you are pantless. without pants. 

the tips of beatrice’s ears are red. her jaw is tight. ‘please put your pants away when you take them off,’ she says, and turns the page of her book even though you’re pretty sure she wasn’t done reading the last one. 

‘uh. yeah. i will.’

her finger taps against the spine of the book. ‘did you - was it fun?’

‘yeah.’ 

‘good. i’m glad.’ beatrice pushes the croissant over to you. ‘pain au chocolat,’ she says, and you realise that the croissant isn’t hers, it’s yours, she bought it for you because she never buys herself chocolate croissants. you think of her standing in the beautiful, warm bakery after a stupid long shift and buying you a pastry to eat after you went on a date with another woman and she watches your hands for a while as you split the croissant, which flakes between your fingers, smears buttery goodness everywhere. you break off a tiny bit and hold it out to her. ‘it’s  for you,’ she says, shakes her head. 

‘try it.’

she gives in. she gives in, beautiful when she does it. hungry. takes the little piece and pops it between her lips, which curl upwards, pastry melting, chocolate melting on her tongue. there’s a bit of pastry on her lip and the whole room is full of light. 

[mysteria157]

Chapter 11

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~16k

CW: just…straight smut, profanity

Summary: Nanami gifts you with something that sets a new course in your life. When confessions are finally laid on the table, you both give in.

Notes: Hi! This is a long one so buckle in. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 I hope you enjoy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

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It Had To Be You Masterlist

You watched Rory move another porcelain pillar across his studio to join the others of various height and size. An art exhibit was to be hosted at his studio and he had waited until the last minute to prepare.

“That looks good there. I don’t think we should change anything else.”

You watched him dust off his jeans, brown hands swiping the particles off the denim before he smiled up at you. His two strand twists were pulled up into a top bun, brown eyes filled with joy as he looked around at his finished work. The exhibit was to be held in only two days and he still needed to confirm catering, music, and decorations he had ordered weeks ago.

“Who asked you for an exhibit anyway? This has never happened to you.”

Rory pursed his lips, clasping his hands behind his back before he rocked playfully on his heels before throwing a wide grin in your direction.

“Me. I’ve finally pulled enough sponsors and followers to have something small.”

“Congratulations!”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace as he chuckled into your hair and rubbed your back.

“I’ll be there, I promise. Do you need a guide? Can I help come up with price points? Or I can get out some last minute marketing for you—”

“Honey.”

He smiled down at you and patted the side of your cheek, a familiar gesture of affection he had always cast your way growing up.

“The only thing I want is for you to wear a nice comfortable dress, support me when you can, and look beautiful like you always do.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping away from his laughing form at your annoyance before you folded your arms over your chest.

“It would be a perfect opportunity to really showcase some of your work.”

The sound of that made your throat clench, lips pursing as you tried to push away the nerves in your belly. As if anyone would like your amateur work. Rory had been crafting ceramics for years, and before you were even born.

“I can set up a shelf if you want. Somewhere where not too many will pry—”

“Uncle Rory. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not ready yet. I still have so much to work on.”

He scoffed in response, waving a hand at you in dismissal before flitting his gaze to the layout of pillars.

“Your mother is something else.”

He had muttered it under his breath, but you still caught it, choosing not to respond.

In truth, you had only just recently begun to regain your confidence and footing with ceramics again. The nagging words of your mother had echoed less and less every time you sat at a throwing wheel. But with a growing baby and a new house, you hadn’t really touched anything in the past week.

“Fine, fine. I won’t bring it up anymore. But I still want you there. Wear something nice…bring Nanami too. I know you had your little date yesterday because you look…very relaxed.”

You scoffed, choking on a laugh and blushing fiercely as you smacked your uncle on the arm.

“Nothing happened!”

You watched his shoulders shake in glee as he looked down at you, the teasing glint in his eyes so reminiscent of almost every time he looked at you. Growing up and spending your summers with him, having a place to run to when your mother frustrated you, you had only ever seen him happy or laughing. It was rare to see him annoyed or pensive or even angry; the only times those emotions had ever graced his features was when your mother was either in the room or the subject of conversation.

“All alone with a looker like that?”

He whistled, the noise bouncing off the walls of his empty studio as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Make it make sense. I’m straight as an arrow but…20 dollars is 20 dollars.”

“Stop!” you squealed, face red and throat ripping with giggles as you smacked his arm again. He guffawed, his boisterous laugh practically shaking the walls as he watched you flail about in embarrassment.

You were right though, nothing had happened. At least not really. You had toed that line last night gracefully, letting him ravage you to the point of delusion. Had it not been for your traitorous stomach, you probably would have woken up this morning in his sheets demanding breakfast and tea. He had morphed back into the perfect gentleman you were used to, content to blurt out annoyed comments at the television, fingers still pressing into the sore muscles of your back, peppering your neck with a kiss or two when the thought crossed his mind. Kento was able to put your discomfort on the top of his priority list, his lust tampered and tucked away for another time when it was more appropriate.

After all three episodes of the Kardashians had played and the heaviness of sleep began to settle into your bones, he walked you out to your car so you could go home before your eyes began to droop.

That was all. Nothing too crazy even though you wanted it to be.

But soon. You had promised it to yourself when you brushed your teeth last night and got ready for bed. Soon you would take charge and show him just how insatiable you could be.

“See, you over here thinking about it right now. A shame.”

Rory’s teasing slid through your ears, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into your overheated and embarrassed body. You narrowed your eyes at him, sticking your tongue out before whirling around to walk out of the studio.

“It’s in two days! Seven pm, don’t be late!”

****

“So, I haven’t heard from you all day. How long until you tell me how your date went?”

By the time you made it to your house from Rory’s studio, you only had minutes to spare before Ome was making her presence known. You had invited many of your friends over to finally get your house in order.

Originally it wasn’t your plan, but when Gojo heard Nanami and Haibara would be over to finally lay concrete in your studio, he immediately inserted himself. He wanted to ‘use his superior height to hang up pictures and shelves’.

His words not yours. Because he knew wherever you were, Ome would be as well.

Yuji, using any opportunity to spend time with you, insisted on coming over to move the rest of your furniture around.

Ome? Ome just wanted to be around to snoop about your date.

“Stop ignoring me. I’ll keep pestering until you give in.”

You offered her no response, flickering your gaze down to the layout of instructions for the rocking chair that had finally come in the mail. Ome had tried to reach for the box for the baby’s crib, but you had adamantly refused to open it. Based on Kento’s random bouts of slightly less stoic sentiment when he talked about putting together the crib, you gathered he wanted nothing more than to do it himself.

“How big is his dick?”

You rolled your eyes, your gaze still looking down at the instructions.

“Why are you talking like we haven’t had sex before?”

You gestured down to your belly, keeping your eyes on your work as you fastened a wooden leg into a rocker, the dark wood sliding beneath your fingertips.

“You had sex with Nanami when you were both drunk as fuck. Last night was the first time you two fucked free of inhibition. Your hormones are out of control, high libido, everything is sensitive, it’s the perfect opportunity to ride him into submission.”

You sighed slowly, your patience quickly evaporating as she continued to ramble. It was impossible to ignore Ome when she was determined to pry something out of you. It made no sense to withhold anything from her when she could read you like a book upside down, inside out, wet and dirty even on your worst day.

“We didn’t have sex, Ome.”

She scoffed in annoyance, bright silver eyes filling with growing curiosity as she helped you fasten the other side of the rocker. Her kinky locs were pulled away from her chocolate face and into a low bun. She had hidden away her curves in jogging pants and a hoodie, but you were sure the minute Gojo laid his eyes on her, he would make his intentions known until she smacked him across the face.

“You looked hot. Nanami naturally looks like a model so I know he was hot. It was fate. You’ve been trying to climb that quarter of a Danish man for months—”

“He made me a wonderful meal and we made out on his couch and watched the Kardashians. That’s all. I don’t even—we haven’t even talked about what we are.”

She sighed, the peppermint of her gum drifting over to your face and sending small shocks down your spine.

“You two are having a baby together, the correct way to go about a relationship passed a few months ago. You like him, he for damn sure likes you. Be the powerhouse that I know you are and state your intentions. Tell him you want him, drop to your knees and give him that sloppy toppy that will keep him at your side forever.”

You giggled softly, fastening another log in place, your mind running wild with imagination from her words. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to greet him and Haibara at the door, pull Kento by the shirt into your room and throw him on your bed before you fell to your knees and wrapped his cock in your mouth. You didn’t get the chance to that night five months ago, he had knocked away all attempts of you trying to grab at him, redirecting your hands into the sheets to grab and pull as he fucked you with an intensity and sensuality that had you on the verge of tears.

Ome was right though, as much as you wanted to have sex with him, you knew your subconscious would never be comfortable until you at least talked about the state of your relationship. You had both gone from enemies to being bound together by the baby inside of you, to friends who clearly had intense feelings for one another. Everything had moved so fast and out of order.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you out of your thoughts, your eyes blinking back into focus at the mahogany rocking chair leg in your hands. Ome bounded up from the floor and out of the room, leaving you in silence as you fastened the last piece of the chair. You smoothed your hands along the seat, the shiny dark wood reflecting the orb of the light on the ceiling as you pressed against the arm, watching the chair rock back and then towards you again.

Would Kento want something more with you?

You could never ask Ome the question. You could but you would never live down her anger at your stupidity.

Kento had seen almost every rough edge from you. While he didn’t have the opportunity to see you gross from sleep, hot morning breath and snoring, he had been given a front row seat to your fears and vulnerabilities. He had watched you break down and confess why you demanded so much of yourself. He had seen firsthand the effects of your own mother throwing scathing words in your direction and just how deep the trauma in your soul lay hidden.

You couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. You couldn’t want him physically and emotionally but cast him away when things got tough. Not with a baby on the way. You wouldn’t put your daughter through that. You wouldn’t subject her to awkward birthday parties where mommy and daddy were on opposite sides of the backyard glaring at each other.

But you couldn’t stand the thought of choosing to co-parent and watch Kento meet another woman. You couldn’t stomach the idea of having to explain to your daughter that the curvy blonde woman wrapped around her father would potentially be a stepmother.

“Nanami and Haibara are here!”

Ome’s voice rang in your ears, shaking your shoulders back into the present once again in such a small span of minutes. You looked up at the door of the nursery, watching Haibara and Kento come into view as Ome slid past them and began to collect the trash from the floor.

“Thank you for letting me help, y/n!”

Yu, cheerful as always smiled down at you, his almost comically large brown eyes shining down at you before looking around the nursery.

“I’m happy you could come.”

Ome inserted herself before Yu could speak again, holding the trash in her arms as she offered to show him the room that would make up your studio. They both disappeared from the room, their voices slowly decreasing in volume as they walked down the hall and out of earshot.

Kento in his dark jeans and simple white shirt, walked into the nursery, his intense brown eyes analyzing every inch of your work.

“What do you think?”

You let the simple question hang in the room, drifting in the air and through his ears as he admired your partially complete stencil on the wall.

“I think it’s going to look amazing. You already know how I feel about your work.”

You didn’t offer him a response as you watched his form walk slowly around the room, his blond hair was free of product and left to fall free. You had decided weeks ago that you loved it that way. It showed a side of him that you never imagined. Even with his stoic and serious demeanor, the carefree way he let his hair fall around his face made him less intimidating and more vulnerable.

He pulled his gaze away from your work on the wall, turning around to face your form perched on the floor before his eyes landed on the completed rocking chair in front of you. You ran your hands along one of the arms, smiling playfully up at him.

“Not bad huh?”

He hummed in response, the deep sound wafting down to land on your skin.

“How about you model the product for me?”

A large pale hand reached down for you, long fingers flickering back toward himself in a come hither motion and beckoning for you. You took his hand not a second later, letting the warmth bleed into your palm and begin to make its way up your arm as he pulled you to your feet.

You would need a pillow for your back, but the chair was structurally perfect. Large enough to not have your feet drag on the floor when you rocked back and forth, but not too small to squeeze your thighs on the sides.

Kento looked down at you, watching you sway back and forth in the large mahogany chair and basking in the warmth that began to boil in his stomach. You smiled up at him, your gaze free of frustration and worry, a mixture of happiness and mirth filling its place. Your curls were piled messily atop your head, a few tendrils falling to frame your face. Even in your maternity leggings and long blue shirt, he could see the swell of your stomach beneath the fabric, prominent and growing to accommodate the life inside.

It filled him with a sense of emotion he wasn’t expecting. He had long ago accepted the primal feeling of being the cause of another life forming. But he had yet to grasp the random bursts of unbridled happiness when his eyes would land on you when you both were together. He marveled at the way his chest tightened when he found you idly rubbing your belly when you talked. He loved the subtle changes in your form; the roundness of your cheeks and the way you would have to slide your shirt down when it rode too high and exposed the skin of your stomach. Even now as he looked down at you, the sight of a mother rocking in a chair and cradling her stomach, he couldn’t help the picture of their daughter in your arms sleeping on your chest as you rocked her to sleep.

To see you change so much for something else was a beautiful thing. Kento for all of his wit and strength and accomplishments would never know the feel of being so close to a life he had created as it grew.

“I’m going to guess by how much you’re staring that you like what you see?”

Kento chuckled softly, lips curling into a small smile as he chose to gaze at you further instead of offering a response. You bit the inside of your cheek, willing away the blush trying to make its way on your face as you stopped rocking and pulled yourself out of the chair.

“Rory has an exhibit in a few days at the studio. All of his work over the years and he’s pretty excited about it.”

“That is quite an accomplishment. I’ll offer my congratulations when I see him again.”

You opened your mouth, faltering for only a second before you squared your shoulders and harnessed that small reserve of confidence you kept in handy when it came to him.

“I’ll be going, you should come too.”

You fucking idiot.

Analyzing eyes roved over your form, sliding over your skin with an intensity that always made your stomach melt with heat. He closed the gap between you both, crossing the last shred of a boundary you had erected as his chest brushed against yours.

“So, you’re saying we should arrive separately? That’s very counterproductive and not like you at all.”

A pale hand slid around your waist, the familiar warmth of his skin blazing through your shirt and licking up your torso as he immediately pulled you closer to him.

“You don’t want me to come with you?”

His voice was so low, the deep timbre vibrating against you as his tea scented breath washed over your face. You couldn’t smell the familiar cologne on his body even at your close proximity, but you could faintly get a whiff of lavender fabric softener radiating from his white shirt. The feel of the nursery walls against your back shocked you instantly, pushing a shaky breath from your lungs, your blood boiling in your toes and slowly inching its way up your legs.  

“You’d have me dress up nice, gel and part my hair, wear those glasses you like so much…but I have to come alone? That’s not very fair.”

“I…I suppose you can come with me then. A date.”

He hummed in agreement before leaning down towards you.

The feel of his lips molding against yours wasn’t new, but it always felt that way. Hot and a little wet but so slow and sensual to the point you felt your heart begin to lurch up into your throat. Even with your limited experience with each other, finding a rhythm was easy because in a matter of seconds, the hand not on your waist had slid up to the side of your neck, titling your head back and allowing him better access. The feel of his tongue sliding against your bottom lip made you gasp, stomach fluttering in anticipation as you opened up more for him and let his tongue slide against yours.

All too soon his lips pulled away from yours, choosing instead to kiss the side of your mouth, the corner of your jaw, the thin skin of your neck before he latched on and began to suck the skin between his mouth, popping the blood vessels to give way to a mark that would surely take days to fade.

You blinked away the thick haze in your head, your vision slowly coming into focus as you looked up in a trance at the ceiling.

“Th-the door is open, Kento. Have some restraint.”

He hummed against your neck, disapproval leeching from his wet mouth and onto your skin. With great strength, he pulled away from your neck and looked down at you instead. His full lips were swollen and slightly red, cheeks holding a hint of ruddiness in color as he breathed heavily against you.

“Then we can go to your room.”

You swallowed down the whine that pressed against the back of your throat and threatened to be let free. His tone was serious and without a hint of teasing, eyes severe but liquid and flowing with heat. You opened your mouth to fight back, eyes blinking rapidly through the increasingly rising lust in your chest.

“Gojo and Yuji will be here soon.”

Kento simply shrugged, radiating indifference as one of his hands stroked your hip, pushing the hem of your shirt up to let his fingers graze against your skin. You found yourself arching your back fractionally, angling your hips just a little closer to him.

“Gojo will be distracted with Omelia and Yuji will be too engrossed on how cement works to care about anything else.”

Another kiss to your lips, quick and wet before the hand on your skin moved further up your back, the miniscule touch arching you a little more into him.

He sighed dramatically, hot breath amplifying the electric currents still zipping through your body.

“Perhaps you’re right. We would be pressed for time.”

Both of his hands cradled your face, tilting your head back again to look up at him before he slotted his lips against yours, kissing you with an intensity that had you struggling to breathe against him. You buried your hands into his chest, fingers curling the soft fabric tightly, wanting him closer but also knowing you wouldn’t have the privacy today that you both craved.

He pulled away with a soft breath before pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Besides, the things I would like to do…I’m sure our friends would be a little mortified if they heard you.”

The whine that had remained huddled in the back of your throat finally sprung free, your face coloring hard as you smacked his muscular chest and glared up at him. He smiled down at you, a gentle curve of his lips and a small puff of air leaving his nose as he laughed gently, chest rubbing up against your belly.

The ring of the doorbell and Ome’s yell that should would answer, made you both unfortunately aware of what would be happening today; getting your house in order. Not tangled in the sheets for hours on end.

But soon.

“Go help Haibara with the studio.” You reached up to stroke loose blond locks from his forehead, admiring as they flopped back into place. “The gallery is in two days. Look nice but not too fancy and wear that cologne I can always smell on you.”

You watched with silent satisfaction as his eyes flooded with arousal and pride, offering yourself to him one last time as he kissed your lips quickly and pulled away from your frame, allowing the cold air of your nursery to waft between your bodies and dissipate the heat.

“Yes ma’am.”

You ignored the licks of heat in your belly at the words, pushing away the fantasies as he placed a quick kiss to your cheek and walked from the room.

You weren’t paying attention to the growing chatter in the hallways, your eyes unfocused and teeth digging into your bottom lip as Ome and Gojo walked into the nursery.

“Why can’t I compliment you?”

Gojo’s voice was filled with confusion and a small hint of disappointment as he stopped in the doorway. Ome sat in your rocking chair, looking up at Gojo’s confused form.

“You only compliment me because you want me to get in bed with you. You’re too tall and annoying for me to spare the five minutes for you to get off.”

You relaxed your posture, molding more into the wall as you watched them both interact.

“No, I’m complimenting you because I mean it.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her chest. You could see the need to fight him in her eyes, the innate desire to turn away any man who made themselves known to her. But you could also detect a hint of interest, so very small but only you could see it.

“Gojo, you’re—”

“Just one date.”

The admission wasn’t a surprise to neither you nor Ome. But the serious look on Gojo’s face, bright blue eyes looking down at Ome in a fierce sort of loyalty you had never seen before, made you both pause.

“Just one. Give me one chance to prove to you that I’m worth more than insults. If you don’t like me after all of that, then I’ll leave you alone.”

She didn’t speak for a few seconds too long, silver expressive eyes looking up at Gojo’s equally alien ones before she pursed her lips in resignation.

“Y/n’s uncle is showing his work at his studio in a few days. Take me. No tricks, no stupid remarks, no nasty innuendos. If you fuck this up, I’ll choke you.”

He wiggled his shoulders playfully, smiling down at her.

“So, a win-win for me then?”

You couldn’t help the snort that shot from your mouth, eyeing Ome as she rolled her eyes and tried to contain the twitching of her lips.

Gojo turned his form over to you, flashing pearly whites in your direction before he invaded your space with his grotesquely tall form and pulled you into a gentle hug.

“So still no dick yet?”

For as much as Ome complained about Gojo, they truly had a lot in common. Two sides of the same coin who said what was on their mind without a care for how it came out of their mouths. Gojo took in your annoyed expression for only a second before rolling his eyes.

“I told you, my eyes see everything. I can tell that you had a good date last night, but you don’t have that glow most women do when they’ve had good pipe.”

There was no point in admonishing him. Once he got started, it was almost impossible for him to stop until it suited him.

“In college, I accidentally heard Nanamin giving it to one of his girlfriends at the time. Even I wanted to take notes from him. She walked out of his room like a newborn deer."

Gojo sighed as he recounted the events, almost wistful.

"Luckily Haibara walked in the house when Nanamin saw me or he probably would have beat the shit out of me. Wear something nice and he will be on you like a rabid dog.”

Ome barked at him to get out, rushing after his laughing form as he ran from the room, leaving you a blushing mess.

***

You were sure of yourself as you looked in the large mirror of your bathroom. You had spent hours putting yourself together, picking out every accessory and coming up with the perfect style until you had given up entirely and decided to just…go with your gut. And that simple action boosted your confidence to a degree that even you were blushing as you looked in the mirror.

A mauve long dress with skinny straps hugged your body. Not too tight, but form-fitting enough to show off the curves of your growing form and your belly. The long-sleeved mauve duster made you feel a little more secure as it flowed down your body and stopped at the same length of your dress. Your clear chunky heels were only about three inches tall; a perfect height for you to walk around in all night without getting too uncomfortable. Your curls hung over your shoulders and down your back, your edges smoothed down and secure with a skinny black headband to keep any tendrils from falling in front of your face. You topped off your accessories with a double-layered gold necklace, gold hoop earrings and a few simple gold bands to decorate your fingers. A simple wing of eyeliner, clear mascara, and a smooth application of clear lipgloss had cemented your look and filled you with a sensation of pride that you hoped would ride with you the rest of the night.

The sound of your doorbell pulled you out of your admiration, jumping a little from shock before you grabbed your black clutch and made your way for the door.

It made no sense to look naturally ready to fuck. And yet here he was, at your front door in black pants topped with a black leather belt with a silver buckle to accentuate his trim waist. A dark grey knit long-sleeve top was tucked into his pants, pulling just a little at his pectorals and biceps. The sleeves were pushed up to the middle of his forearms, showing off veiny skin and his signature silver Cartier watch. His thick blonde locks were gelled and parted in his signature style that you had seen every day at work and that familiar cologne was pooling around his form, floating around his feet and waiting to trail after him.

“You’re beautiful.”

The statement left no room for argument as he looked down at you and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You offered a small smile up at him in return, rolling your eyes playfully before you locked your door and followed him to his car.

***

Rory had really outdone himself in such a short time. The studio had been transformed from glaze and paint stained walls, eclectic design, and haphazard decoration, to sleek and modern. The walls which were usually decorated with frames of paintings and photography had been covered with white satin curtains. The bright lights that were often on in the center of the room had been turned off, smaller lights installed instead and directing their low-lit gaze at the various pieces of ceramic art that littered around the room on white stone pillars of varying size. He had forgone the musician and settled with a simple playlist of smooth jazz and R&B that played through the speakers on the walls. A long table of snacks and drinks and a caterer for each dish manned the far wall at the very end of the room. Even though you and Kento were only fifteen minutes late for a three-hour-long event, the room was filled with people talking idly with each other as they gazed at his work.

“Will you be my guide?” Kento teased from next to you, offering his muscular arm before you wrapped into his embrace and chuckled against him.

“You know his style more than I do.”

You couldn’t deny the happiness that filled you as you both wandered from work to work, your mouth flying with different facts about each piece. You told him about Rory’s inspiration for a collection of terracotta pots he had made when you were fifteen, walked him through the process of how he studied indigenous tribes overseas for a few years to gain inspiration on how to craft in a different way.

He listened intently, asking questions often to keep your mind busy, his mind truly interested in everything he was looking at. It made you squeeze his arm a little tighter in affection as you both said hello to Rory before continuing to wander around.

“Do you realize that this could be you?”

You didn’t respond to him as you both studied a set of black stoneware, fashioned to look as if it had been broken from hot coal and molded on the spot. Kento, sensing your apprehension, chose to keep speaking.

“You have a creativity that rivals even Rory.”

You scoffed in reply to his statement. What a ludicrous thing to say; comparing yourself to your uncle who had years of experience and study to hone his craft. And you, who had only thrown pottery on a wheel in your studio in your spare time, would not come as close to this for quite some time.

“Where do you think you get the trait from? You have work in your studio that could be sitting right on these pillars tonight.”

You simply chose to study him further, your eyes prying into him to see if you could pull any sense of a lie from his expressive brown eyes. As usual, you came up short. Kento always exuded a seriousness that gave way to honesty

“I think impending fatherhood has made you soft.”

“I may be happy that I’ll be a father soon, but I have no reason to lie. I will say it until you begin to realize and then continue to do so; you have a gift.”

You swallowed gently, pushing down the rising quivering in your throat from his words. You had a love-hate relationship with his way to simply speak freely. What would come out chopped and filled with anxiety from others was always effortless for Kento. Especially when it was directed at you.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He was clearly trying to soothe you; give you a little space to breathe and soak in his words. You took the bait, smiling softly and nodding before you watched him walk through the crowd and away from you.

Your eyes wandered over Rory’s black stoneware again, admiring the natural orange spots to bring the appearance of rust. You would get there. Once the baby was born and you had just a little more time to breathe, you would dedicate yourself to your work. You had more than enough money to stay unemployed for years and you had resolved to see this through until the end; whether that resulted in success or embarrassment would remain to be seen.

Gojo was hard to miss as he and Ome circled the room and caught your eye, talking—and surprisingly not bickering—as he pointed to certain objects and smiled down at her, mouthing words that seemed to make her chuckle and roll her eyes. Ome was of course as sexy as ever; black pants that hugged her thick thighs and slim waist, a black halter top that showed off chocolate shoulders, her kinky curly hair falling over her shoulders in a twist out she had clearly worked hard on. Her silver eyes were the most entrancing thing in the room. Gojo for all his unnatural height and bright blue eyes that pulled everyone in, was nothing in comparison to her when she was in the room. He waved at you, smiling brightly before his stark gaze landed on what was probably Kento across the room. He whispered something in Ome’s ear before he disappeared into the crowd.

You were intentionally quiet when she reached you, pursing your lips dramatically as you waited for her to speak first. She glared at you instead, seeing through the demeanor almost instantly, gaze cutting as a means to intimidate but only served to bounce off of you.

She sighed in defeat.

“Spit it out.”

“So you and Gojo—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You giggled brightly, rubbing your belly instinctually as you watched her chocolate cheeks darken from blush. She rolled her eyes once, your giggling never ceasing as she rolled them again before the gentle curve of a smile broke her façade and she exhaled with her own incredibly rare giggle herself.

“He’s been…fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Okay, okay. He’s been really, really…sweet. I thought I could intimidate him into backing down but I guess six months of practice made him an expert. He’s…fucking trying and I’m having a good time.”

You wrapped your arm with one of hers, pulling her toward you with another giggle.

“I’m glad. Don’t get too comfy too quick, you might be joining me in the motherhood department with the way he carries himself.”

Ome squawked, smacking away your hand in embarrassment.

“You annoying piece of—”

“Excuse me.”

Your chiding laughter faded away slowly as you turned around to the source of whoever was trying to get your attention. Her appearance gave nothing away and you for sure didn’t recognize her from anywhere else. Red rimmed glasses perched on pale and freckled skin, jet black hair pulled up into a tight high bun, dark jeans, a white top, and red lipstick to make her stand out in the crowd even with her small frame.

“Are you y/n?”

“I am.”

Your confirmation seemed to make the small smile on her face grow significantly. She clasped her hands together in excitement.

“Oh, I’m so glad. Your message said I could find you here. I was hoping to talk to you in person about a potential commission?”

You tilted your head in confusion, your eyes looking quickly through the crowd for Kento but not finding him. Ome shifted beside you, sliding closer to you and reaching for your arm to pull you away if she needed to.

The woman could see the hesitation on your face and dug in her purse to pull out her phone.

“I’ve been following your Instagram page for weeks now and finally had the courage to message you about your work. I even received a response this afternoon on where to meet you so we could talk further.”

You held your composure as she handed you her phone.

The profile was simple and without flair but the pictures, each picture was of the work that you had done over the years. Terracotta and stoneware, partially complete painted china, the odd figurines you had crafted in the privacy of your studio. All of it was there, there was no way this was someone else. The fear of someone sneaking into your house rooted in your mind as you scrolled through picture after picture, going over every single time you had opened and closed the door to your home in Sendai to imagine a possibility that you had left it unlocked.

“I’m sorry but I don’t know what’s going…on…here.”

Your words died in your throat, mouth drying up instantly. The very last photo was of you; your messy hair pulled up into a bun, shirt stretched over a smaller belly and hands clutching a stoneware dish as you wrapped it in bubble wrap. You weren’t even looking up in the photo, but the impression was clear. Someone had taken a photo of you, and the sinking reality of who that person was had your heart soaring against your ribcage, pounding relentlessly against your bones, heartbeat echoing in your ears.

You scrolled back up to the top of the page, admiring the profile picture of one of your better works and then refusing to gasp at the bio.

Y/n

Self-taught Ceramic Artist based in Nakameguro

DM for more inquiries

“Kento.”

His name left you on a shaky exhale, your head filling with disbelief. You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of a pair of eyes looking at you, and smiled up softly at her, handing her back the phone.

“I apologize. It seems I have a friend who made this page for me and didn’t tell me. But…I would be happy to make something for you. You’ll have to be patient with me as you’ll be my first client. But we can talk later this week if you want.”

The woman exhaled happily, smiling up at you again before she bowed in respect.

“Thank you so much! I would be honored.”

She pulled her purse over her shoulder, turning to leave before faltering and looking at you.

“You have a wonderful friend.”

The statement made you shake out a small giggle, happiness beginning to flood your veins at a ferocity you weren’t prepared for.

“I suppose I do.”

Ome asked for the profile name from the woman as you remained silent. When she finally walked away and back into the crowd, it was just you and Ome still standing next to one of Rory’s work.

Kento had waited until your back was turned to take those photos that day when you were packing up your studio. He had done all of this without a second thought; creating an Instagram page maybe with Yuji’s help, organizing picture after picture, probably even manning inquiries and messaging that woman right before he got into his car to drive to your house to pick you up.

“Do you realize this could be you?”

“You have work in your studio that could be sitting on these pillars tonight.”

“You have such a gift.”

Ome’s hand on your back made you start, jumping slightly back into reality, your eyes hazy with tears as you looked over at her. You blinked them away, willing them back inside before they could roll down your eyes and give you away when Kento was to find you again. You looked down at your phone for what felt like the 50th time in only two minutes, scrolling through picture after picture, your admiration and affection for him growing by the second.

He had a kindness that you more than deserved but never would have expected to get, especially when you first met. He had only saw your work one time, just once in your studio right before you poured your heart out to him about your mother, and yet he had already resolved to make you realize just how talented you truly were.

All of this for you.

“Are you okay?”

Ome’s voice was soft next to you, rubbing your back and watching as you smiled over at her before nodding, your voice still too tight to speak.

“I can see Gojo trying to find me, so I’ll go to him and give you some space.”

She pulled you into a firm hug, chuckling against your cheek.

“I’m glad I finally have someone in my corner that can make you see reason.”

You pinched her side playfully, not speaking as you watched her disappear from you and in the direction of Gojo.

Kento was by your side only minutes later, his face giving away nothing as he offered you a plastic-covered cup, a string from a teabag hanging from the side.

“Dandelion tea. Helps with water retention and I can imagine standing for this long might make you a little swollen and uncomfortable.”

You exhaled quickly, your shoulder shaking from the action as you took the cup from him.

“They have packets of dandelion tea here?”

Kento tilted his head, his serious eyes gazing at you with an air that made your stomach squeeze.

“No, I brought a packet for you. Events like these require a lot of standing. It only made sense.”

You shook your head in disbelief, eyebrows pinching together as your mind reeled with the force of him. The more that you felt yourself getting used to his usual acts of kindness, the more you realized just how unacclimated you were. Even though you knew his nature, the fact that the person standing in front of you was just…being himself was almost too much to contemplate.

Making you tea for your nausea, texting you the right foods to eat to help with your nutrient intake, rubbing the sore muscles of your body without you having to ask, wanting to spend any moment with you that he could, offering you nothing but honesty and affirmation and affection in every interaction you both had.

For fucks sake even forcing you to put your own feet in the water with your work to show the world and even yourself just how much people were looking.

All of it was only things that Kento could do. Without question and without apprehension.

As he looked down at you, a small smile growing on his straight lips with not a care in the world, you realized in that moment that you wanted to be out of this room and only with him.

“Can we go home? Maybe back to my house? It’s closer and I would like to be away from people if I can.”

A familiar large hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd instantly.

“Whatever you would like, we will do.”

You bit the inside of your lip, both hands gripping the warm cup a little tighter as the flapping in your chest reinforced its existence with a heavy lurch.

***

Your tea was largely forgotten as you set the cup down on your granite kitchen island. You had spent the entire car ride thinking over what you would say and how you would approach him. You had rehearsed it in your head over and over. But now, standing in your large kitchen as you watched him heat up leftover food from last night for you without even having to ask, you found your tongue had curled into the back of your throat, thick and dry and keeping you from speaking.

“Do you want to watch a movie? I found one that I think you might like.”

His attention was elsewhere as he spoke, pulling the reheated pizza from your microwave and setting it on the counter between you both. He finally looked up at you, his straight face coloring with a hint of worry.

“You’re awfully quiet. What’s wrong?”

Hesitation made your bones suddenly heavy, your mouth mute and your resolution teetering on the edge of fear. Kento could read every flicker of emotion in your eyes like a book, walking around the island to stand in front of you, a hand rubbing your upper arm in an attempt to soothe you.

“Are you nauseous? Tired?”

You blinked yourself out of your stupor, steeling what remained of your fraying nerves as you dug in your purse for your phone. He was silent as he watched you unlock it, observing as you opened the app and clicked the recently followed profile. You squeezed the sides of your phone as you looked at the pictures, your conviction hardening in your chest as you decided finally to put the games and worry with him aside.

“A woman found me at the gallery tonight and asked for me to commission something for her. Naturally…I had no idea what she was talking about and she showed me this.”

You turned your phone to face him. Kento wasn’t surprised or caught off guard; his straight face simply looked down at your unlocked phone, brown eyes flickering over the contents quickly before he looked up to meet your gaze, his expression unchanged.

“Did you make this?”

He answered almost immediately, his voice firm and leaving no room for trepidation.

“I did. I took them that night when I helped you pack, and then it took me about a week to put it all together. I’ve been watching it and answering inquiries since then. She was the first person that I felt confident would not be a creep.”

You clutched your phone to your chest, pressing the cold titanium to your cleavage and willing yourself to stay focused. He spoke without a care in the world, muttering the words to you as if he were talking about the weather. As if the act were just a usual stroll down the street.

“I don’t want you to say that I’m speaking nonsense. I don’t want a vague answer and I don’t want you to tell me something just to make me feel better. I need to know, now. Why did you do it?”

He pulled in a steady breath, broad shoulders rising with the movement before he squinted down at you and opened his full straight lips to speak.

“We had a rather rough start, didn’t we? Always barking at each other in conference rooms, demeaning each other’s’ prowess whenever we could. All because I was an asshole who did not like change and was content to coast through a job I loathed. But even though we both couldn’t stand each other; I was always thinking about you. Even when I swore to myself that you were no good, I loved every word that came out of your mouth, every glare you sent my way, every laugh that fell from your lips when Yuji or Gojo told you a joke. You were always the smartest person in the room and I gravitated to you. Even when I was drunk out of my mind, you were all I wanted. I hated it. But I realized quite quickly that I hated how much I had messed up when I could have done so much better with you.”

You swallowed the heavy lump in your throat, trying your best to will away the lightheadedness as his words lofted down between you both to settle on your face.

“I don’t want you to think I’m only acting this way because of the baby. If anything, she’s shown me everything that I want. I want to be able to take care of you while she grows inside of you. I want to be there when she comes into the world. I want to be there for every diaper change and late night when we are both too exhausted to stand…I want to be there for every meal and birthday and holiday, but I want you with me. I want to be there with you every day, for everything. I got your job back, put your ideas in front of those who would listen, and helped fire the ones who wronged you because you deserve it all. I made that page because I want you to understand how special you are and I want others to see that as well, and if that means I have to give you a push then I’ll do it a million times over.”

The sound of your phone creaking as you squeezed the metal in your hands pulled the fuzz out of your mouth. Your vision was swimming with tears, threatening to spill over and start a spicket that you wouldn’t be able to stop. You could feel yourself sinking, wanting to sob in happiness but too embarrassed to show him. So naturally, you turned to humor as a distraction from your bubbling nervousness. You cleared your throat gently and lifted your chin up at him.

“You speak like you’re reading wedding vows. You don’t think it’s a little soon?”

Kento’s eyes widened fractionally in surprise, his cheeks dusting red before he schooled his features and narrowed his eyes down at you in admonishment.

“That’s not funny. Stop teasing.”

You couldn’t help the small giggle that warbled from the back of your throat, your hands relaxing around your phone before you set it on the counter next to you. You looked up at him, admiring the subtle blush on his cheeks that still hadn’t faded away, reveling in the emotions dancing in his eyes; vulnerable and uncertain. You took another step closer to him, the gap between you both now only inches apart.

“So, you want me then?”

You of course already knew what he was going to say. For months now, Kento had done nothing but show who he really was; kind and honest, unwavering in his feelings and affirming of yours, protecting of you in such a fierce way that the force of it was still something you had yet learned how to handle. There were so many other things that you could try and think about another time. You knew deep down that he wasn’t going anywhere. But to hear him speak the words you wanted to hear, just one more time to satisfy the urge for a few months, it would be more than enough for you.

He wrapped both of his arms around your waist, warm skin sliding against your duster and leeching into the tight fabric of your dress. The smell of him dancing along your skin, caressing and groping in a way that had you reeling.

You watched in growing delight as the corners of his lips curved with a soft smile, brown eyes melting almost immediately.

“Of course, I want you. I want you every minute of every day. I admire you and--I like you…more than you can imagine.”

The resolution had cemented in your chest, pushing away all your nerves and apprehension at once as he spoke the words to you; serious and firm and unrelenting in a way that only Kento could convey.

Mentally grasping the sudden abundance of courage, you closed the gap between you both and buried your hands in his shirt, bunching the fabric and yanking him down towards you until his nose brushed against yours. You quietly admired the sight of his eyes widening just an inch, bright brown eyes blowing out slowly.

“You’re a very sappy man, Kento. I’m surprised you don’t cry more.”

The rare chuckle that was growing more and more common around you shot out onto your skin, brushing against your cheeks and smoothing down the sides of your neck.

“The teasing won’t ever stop, will it?”

The hands around your waist yanked you even closer to him, your chest molding against his and forcing your neck to crane slightly to look up at him because of his tall form. The ring of his irises was thin, barely noticeable in the kitchen lights as you felt the heat from his body increase in temperature.

“Is that a problem, Kento?”

“Absolutely not.”

You both moved at the same time, crashing your lips against one another and igniting a fire that had been poked and prodded for almost six months, finally laying more coals down to watch it grow to a volatile level. His hands were insistent, digging into the meat of your hips with a force that had you hissing in satisfaction, your own hands twisting into his shirt, fingernails catching on the fabric and pulling hard.

The brush of the cold countertop against your back made you jolt, pulling your lips from his as you gasped from the feeling. There was no space between you both, your boundary had shattered a long time ago around him. Even slouched over to reach your lips, Kento towered over your small frame, boxing you in between his hot body and the granite behind you. His broad chest was heaving against your chest, panting deeply as you felt one of his hands leave your waist and twine between your fingers, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Your bedroom.”

His voice was low, lower than what you were expecting and the words carried nothing but demand as you felt your spine zip with electricity. You squeezed his hand and wordlessly led him through your living room, down the hall, and into your large master bedroom.

You had decided to stick with the taupe-colored walls but opted to paint the accent wall a light sage. Your walls were decorated ornately with paintings and pictures, a collection of small impressionist works you had accumulated over time and a vast array of pictures of you, Ome, Rory, and your friends throughout the course of your life. An antique vanity that you had saved up for years ago sat against one of your walls, skincare bottles and your minimalist makeup lay on the refurbished countertop.

The sight of your California King platform bed reminded you immediately of the tall man behind you, quiet and imposing as you felt his chest brush against your back. Your teeth dug harshly into your bottom lip, the pain keeping you grounded and lucid as one of Kento’s hands brushed your curls over a shoulder, exposing your neck to him. The hot press of his lips on the skin had your eyes rolling, fluttering closed as you instantly bent to his will, tilting your head to the side to give him more access. You couldn’t remember when your duster had come off or even when long fingers dipped underneath the thin straps of your dress before they were giving way and falling over and down your shoulders, allowing the fabric to tumble down your body and onto the floor. Your bra and panties were nothing special, you had always opted more for comfort these days and the lacier garments you did have were a bit too small now.

You had both seen each other stark naked before, had been pressed together and sweaty and panting and groaning against one another to leave no room to hide so this wasn’t anything new.

But that was before you knew more about him, before he had given you a child and peeled layer after layer of your soul until nothing was left. Now you were both free of inebriation and that ghosting feeling of anxiety slowly began to make itself known, familiar invisible tendrils dancing up your body menacingly.

All too quickly, Kento was turning you around to face him, an action that managed to dissipate the tendrils around you if only for a moment. His eyes were heady with lust and something else you couldn’t quite place, dark and blown out as his gazed roved over your skin.

You were proud of your growing belly; at five and a half months it wasn’t that big yet and you had no trouble getting around and reaching for things. But the soft curve of it did make you feel a little self-conscious. It wasn’t the smooth and slightly toned brown skin he had trailed his tongue down months ago. It wasn’t the same, but you knew Kento could care less.

Warm hands grabbed your hips, guiding you backwards until you were sinking down onto the soft black duvet on your bed. You swallowed hard as you watched him sag down to his knees onto the plush rug on the floor, his eye level now only a few inches taller than yours before he was leaning in again and taking your lips in a manner that seemed to leave you breathless. He wanted this, wanted you. In every way, shape, and form. And the finality of it registering in your body had you building with newfound confidence as you reached behind yourself and unhooked your bra, casting it aside and leaving your top half bare except for your gold necklace.

He took it as an invitation, his hands smoothing up your torso, thumbs brushing against the sides of your breasts before the pad of them ran over your nipples. You knew you were more sensitive lately, but the feel of his thumbs brushing against you had you whimpering into Kento’s mouth, your hands digging into the sheets behind you as you arched more into his touch. His lips were hot and wet as they trailed down your neck to suck and knead at your skin, gnawing at the soreness from the mark he left days ago before they dipped lower to brush against your collarbone, his thick tongue licking the bone against your thin skin.

Ten minutes. It had taken ten minutes for Kento to go from gentleman with his kisses and smooth hands, to perverted beast with a long and insistent tongue that needed to taste every inch of your skin. You let out a shaky breath as you looked down at him, refusing to whimper as his eyes caught yours, tongue out and pressed to your skin before trailing it down your breast and toward a nipple, twirling the bud before he sucked it into his mouth. The moan from your mouth caught you off guard, a little loud and jarring to your body as you tried to sift through the painful pleasure radiating up your spine. His hand grabbed your other breast, kneading the sensitive skin before two fingers rolled a nipple between them and pinched down.

You squeaked, sagging back onto your hands on the bed and letting your head fall back between your shoulder blades as you looked up at the ceiling, mouth open and panting.

Kento promised himself he would go slow. He wanted to take his time with you, touch every single inch until you were a whimpering, pleading mess that was begging for him with tears in your eyes.

It’s what he told himself when you answered the door in your tight dress, block heels, and long curls. It’s what he reinforced in his mind when you were close enough to taste his breath, teasing him even after he had laid himself bare. And it’s what he kept repeating in his head even now, a tongue licking a pert nipple in a gentle caress that had you shaking, your hands threatening to slip as your resolve broke further and further. But he was teetering on the edge, his mind running with salacious thoughts the more he tasted the salt of your skin and listened to the broken whimpers leaving your mouth. He hadn’t even touched your cunt yet, and he was trying to get himself together before he did. Just the thought of you hot and wet and dripping for him had him stiffening in his pants.

As soon as he acknowledged his resolve, it crumbled, a large and hot hand trailing from one of your breasts to dip behind the fabric of your panties. The sigh that left your mouth was deep and heavy, your head whipping down to look at him as his fingers dipped between your folds, sliding through the wetness of your slick. You dug your fingers into the fabric on his shoulders, eyebrows pinching in frustration.

“Stop teasing, Kento.”

A thick finger dipped between your folds, pressing into the hole of your cunt down to the knuckle. You jolted against him, shaking a breathy moan from your dry throat as you glared down at him.

“Being teased doesn’t feel that great all of a sudden?”

His face was straight and unchanging, eyes holding a glint of mirth as his muscular arm moved back and forth, the wrist flexing as the thick finger attached stroked in and out of your wet center. You needed more, craved more; the itchiness of your skin was slowly starting to become more insistent, hips arching toward him begging for another to give you the stretch you were seeking. Your face was like an open book, your emotions and needs laid bare for him and he smiled in response, a rare show of pearly white and straight teeth shocking you.

“You want more, baby?”

Your cunt clenched around his finger at the name, more slick gushing out just from the heat and timbre of his voice. You bit your bottom lip, nodding fervently as you dug your fingers harder into the fabric on his shoulders.

“Is this not enough?”

You couldn’t help the small growl that bubbled in your throat, a glare shooting his way, cutting through his indifferent air and making him smile softly again. He finally relented, slowly pulling his finger out of you, reveling in the wet muscle that squeezed him in an effort to keep him inside. He swallowed a groan, cock twitching in his pants and eyes looking up at you as he popped the wet finger in his mouth, sucking off your slick with a leery gaze.

You couldn’t handle the teasing any longer, choosing instead to scoot back on your bed and plop your head down on the pillows to prop you up, watching in silence as Kento stayed kneeled at the foot of the bed, an elbow pressing into the sheets as he propped his chin on a relaxed hand.

“I thought you wanted me?”

It was a low blow for you to say, but with the arousal thrumming in your veins, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“I always want you.”

“Then stop stalling and take off your clothes.”

He sighed dramatically, slowly coming to stand as he cast you a look of indifference. He was playing a game that he wouldn’t win, and you intended to let him know that.

“Unless you’re stalling for a reason? Afraid you’ll bust too soon?”

That hit something in him immediately, his tall and muscular body freezing, intense eyes flashing with shock, realization of what you were doing, and then resolution as he narrowed his eyes. He knew you were goading him, could smell it from across your large bed; but he wouldn’t let you get away with it regardless.

Kento’s hands reached for the hem of his shirt, dipping beneath the fabric before he pulled it over his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. You clenched your thighs together at the sight; your haze all those months ago had not done the memory of him justice. You forgot about the smooth pectorals that pulled his shirts a little too tight, or the tight abs and v cut that led down to something promising in his pants. His torso was without blemish except the light dusting of blonde hair that trailed down and disappeared behind his belt. You pressed your fingers into your sheets as they itched to reach across the bed and touch.

“Bust too soon? You and I both know that’s not true. Now, spread your legs for me, baby.”

You were heating with embarrassment as you felt the blood boil beneath your cheeks, your chest hitching with breath as you slowly obeyed him, opening your legs to show him your lavender panties. Kento’s eyes seemed to dilate further as he looked down at your covered pussy, his mouth watering at the sight of the dark spot conveying the heavy arousal you were steadily giving off. You ignored the growing itch at the base of your spine as you watched him slowly unbuckle his belt and push down his pants and underwear, finally freeing the rest of his skin for you to look at.

You’d forgotten how big he was but seeing it again was jarring. Long enough not to be overbearing, but thick to the point your cunt throbbed in anticipation. His cock hung heavy, twitching at the act of you staring, the tip gathering a small drip of precum. You bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood, your patience pulling thin.

“Show me what I want.”

His tone left no room for argument, his eyes sharp and focused as he kneeled on the bed. Your hand trembled for only a second as you pushed your panties to the side, showing him your dripping cunt that was more than ready to be stuffed full.

He tutted, shaking his head in disappointment as he looked down at you.

“Don’t be shy. Show me all of it, baby.”

You whined softly, fighting the thrumming in your veins as you used your fingers to spread your folds apart, your hole fluttering from the sudden rush of cold air in the room. It was completely obscene, and your face was on fire, but you couldn’t bear the thought of him not touching you.

“Good girl.”

The praise washed over you like a wave of hot water, sliding over your skin and trailing down your body. You watched him crawl toward you, muscular shoulders bunching and curling over his rotator cuffs as he hovered over you, one hand bunching in the hair at the nape of your neck while the other slid your panties down your legs, your traces of arousal catching on the skin of your calves as the fabric dropped off the side of the bed. His lips were on yours in an instant, no more pretense necessary as you let his thick tongue part your lips and make a home in your mouth. It was messy and heated, your heart hammering as you tried to keep yourself under control.

The feel of two long fingers pressing hard against your clit had you arching up into him, a whine ripping from your throat and into his mouth as he licked the skin of your bottom lip. He circled slippery fingers once, twice, and one final time against your bundle of nerves before he slid his fingers inside of you without warning and up to the knuckle. You gasp harshly, pulling away from his mouth to dig your nails in the skin of his trapezius muscles.

“Such a wet little thing, you’re dripping.”

He fingered you with a finesse that had you trembling, the pads of his submerged fingers finding that spongy wall inside of you within a second before he was curling up, shooting burning pleasure through your core to pool at the base of your spine. He was relentless, curling over and over, thumb rubbing against your clit, his sharp eyes watching in concealed wonder as your moans grew in pitch, unflinching as your dug your nails harder into his skin.

“More Kento.”

You had planned to beg on his cock, you at least thought you would get that far. But the pleasure had come early just from his fingers alone and your dignity was in shambles. He tilted his head in confusion, a muscular arm still shifting with movement as he slowed down his ministrations.

“I thought I was giving you more?”

You whimpered hard in frustration, eyebrows pinching together and eyes prickling with the urge to build with tears. You blinked them away before they could form, frowning up at him.

“Stop it. You’re being unfair—”

He cut you off before you could beg any further, his eyes hard and the hand in your hair tightening fractionally as he spoke.

“You’re going to cum on my fingers and on my tongue, and then I’ll fuck you, darling.”

It was all you could ask for and still not enough.

“But—”

“Stop making demands when all you’ve done is tease.”

His tone was dark, heavy with lust and firmness as his fingers gave a sudden curl inside of you, pulling a loud moan from your mouth.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Even with the haze in his mind, his concern was evident on his face. Always thinking of you, even when every part of his body wanted to bury inside of you. You smiled up at him, shaking your head as the childish frustration billowed away in the hot air between you.

“Never. I’m just being a brat.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Something you seem to do well.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, reveling in the chuckle that rumbled against your chest from him. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, soft and reassuring to counteract the firmness he had given you just moments ago. When he pulled away, he brushed his lips against your nose, smiling softly as he looked down at you.

“If it’s ever too much, if I hurt you in any way or if you want to stop, tell me at once.”

You nodded quickly, anticipation beginning to bubble in your gut for the millionth time that night. He pursed his lips in disapproval, the fingers stilling inside of you immediately. You whimpered harshly, teeth digging into the skin of your lip as you fluttered your eyes up at him.

“Speak to me. I need you to use your words.”

“Y-yes. I promise, I’ll tell you if I want you to stop or if it’s too much.”

The disapproval fell from his face and disappeared in the heady scent of his cologne around you, a smirk etching in its place as he kissed your lips.

“Good girl.”

The praise was dizzying, his emotions were practically giving you whiplash as you struggled to keep yourself grounded as his lips trailed down your neck, sucking the skin to leave yet another mark before he licked over the spot in satisfaction. You buried your fingers in the pillow beneath your head, panting heavily as you watched him—eyes locked with his—as that familiar thick and wet tongue slid down your skin, gathering the salt between the valley of your breasts, over the gentle swell of your stomach and down to your throbbing cunt. His eyes stayed on yours, your skin heating with an intensity that was making you faint as you watched him use the hand not inside of you slide beneath your knee, pushing it up and over his shoulder. You obeyed his unspoken command to not look away even as he dug his straight teeth into the skin of your inner thighs, pulling a sharp gasp from you that grew in pace as he kissed closer and closer before his tongue licked a smooth strip up your clit, dipping between the two fingers submerged in you to join the heat inside. The moan that left you was broken and deep, satisfaction sliding into the air from your mouth.

You were beautiful, he thought to himself as he watched you; panting and moaning from your place on the sheets above him as his tongue stroked inside of you, alternating with the movement of his fingers. Your hands were buried in the pillow beneath you, pulling the fabric hard to cushion against your ears as your teeth dug harshly into your skin, your lips swollen and red. You wouldn’t last long, the increased blood circulation from pregnancy had left you sensitive and engorged all over, the pleasure ten times more intense, more sensitive, your cunt throbbing from every touch and that familiar white hot pleasure beginning to curl more at the base of your spine. You could feel the muscles in your legs and back begin to tighten, your stomach clenching and bunching with every stroke of his tongue on your clit and every curl of his fingers against your g-spot.

You were barely coherent as you felt the promise of your first orgasm of the night make its intentions known, your legs twitching and chest heaving as you felt your back begin to arch. He was a man starved as he ate you out, the thick muscle of his tongue brushing against your bundle of nerves at just the right pressure, his fingers twisting at just the right speed.

“One more, baby. Let me stretch you out so you can take me.”

You nodded obediently, slack jawed and panting up into the air as you felt another finger slide inside of you, stretching you to the point where you could only shake out a disbelieving moan, eyes squeezing tight as the pleasure began to race down your spine and into your cunt. Your hands flew into his hair, burying inside of thick and soft locks and pulling him closer to you, the action making him groan against your clit. The vibration only served as a kick start to bringing your orgasm forth, your moans climbing higher and higher in pitch until you felt him curl those three fingers one last time, bursting the gates open.

You cursed harshly into the air, hips writhing against his still moving fingers and tongue as your orgasm pooled down your legs and back into your blood, ready to circulate again when he was inside of you. Kento was practically rutting into the mattress, using any sort of friction to soothe the throbbing of his cock and disgusting thoughts of being inside of your tight heat as he slid his fingers out of you and crawled back up your body.

You watched him breathlessly as he popped a finger in his mouth one by one, sucking the juices of you from his skin. You reached for his wrist to stop him, wrapping your hand around it and pulling his hand toward you before you slid the last slick covered finger into your mouth, twirling your tongue around the appendage and admiring your own taste.

“Shit.”

The hiss from his lips was full of surprise as he watched you pop his finger from your mouth and push his hand back down to your cunt, pressing against you insistently before you whispered words to him that he had been dreaming for weeks.

“Fuck me.”

He hissed out another curse, sliding a pillow beneath your hips and making you comfortable above all else even though his blood was pounding in his ears, cock twitching to the point of pain. Your hands were burning on his skin, trailing up his chest to bury at the nape of his neck as you felt him press against your entrance, hot and leaking.

He kept his gaze on your hooded eyes as he pressed his hips forward, pushing into you slowly, groaning deeply at the feel of your muscles contracting around him as he made his way inside. Your eyes fluttered harshly, fingers digging into his nape as you felt the muscles in your cunt throb and pulse around him. He was right to finger you with three fingers, but even with that, the stretch of him was intense and overwhelming, bordering on a faint sense of pain that you had to pant your way through. He paused to let you adjust, both of his hands bunching the fabric of your pillows on either side of your head.

“God you’re so tight,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you softly and trying to will the perverted thoughts away. They were pleading with him to slam his hips into you, listen to you moan hard and beg for him to let you cum, scratch at the skin of his chest as he pounded you into the mattress. But it’s been months, and your comfort was more important to him above all else.

The small whimper from your throat pulled him back into the present, kissing your nose softly as he looked down at you.

“You’re doing so well, baby and I’m almost there. Can you take the rest for me?”

You nodded before speaking quickly instead as you remembered what he had asked of you earlier.

He inched further into you, the stretched muscles giving way a little more, pleasure taking its place as you finally felt his hips press against yours. Kento watched you whimper below him, eyes misting over as you squeezed his cock tight, begging for him to move not a second later. His thrusts were slow and calculated, measuring your comfort as he moved in and out of you, using your facial expressions as a compass for what felt okay to avoid hurting the life growing between you both. Even though he could feel you tense below him, your eyes were heavy, mouth open and panting as you trailed your hands down to his biceps.

“Relax for me, darling. Just a little.”

He grabbed your hip, using sudden strength to keep them steady, forcing your body to sag into the bed and his cock to sink into you further, pulling a loud moan from your lips.

“More—more Kento.”

He obeyed you immediately, picking up his pace and stretching the rings of muscles squeezing him like a vice. Your pulse was racing, your heart fluttering like a bird in your ribcage as moan after moan fell past your lips like water. He was hitting spots in you that no other man before could ever touch, handling you with care with the life inside of you but also fucking you with an intensity that had all sense of modesty splintering from you with each steady thrust of his hips.

“I’ve waited almost six months for this.”

The confession hung in the air between you both, no longer shocking you but still a surprise to hear, nonetheless. His blonde locks hung heavy over his forehead, a few tendrils pressing to the skin from the building sweat. His pupils were blown out considerably, lust and arousal oozing from them and falling down onto your skin. A scalding hand grabbed the flesh of one of your thighs, pulling your leg around his waist and sinking himself a little further into you.

“You would be ashamed of how vulgar I’ve been. I think about being inside of you all the time.”

He leaned down, crashing his lips to yours before he pulled away and licked up the side of your neck, panting heavy hot air against your ear.

“I think about how you felt around me that night every day when I’m at work, in the morning when I go for a run, in the shower when I have my hand wrapped around my cock…”

Your cunt fluttered around him, your reservoir of pleasure bubbling from the heat of your skin, spilling over the edges as each thrust began to push against the hard barrier of a rewarding orgasm. The hand holding up your leg smoothed down your skin to the crease of your thigh, angling your hips in a way that had him brushing against the sponginess of your g-spot harshly.

“Oh fuck, right there!”

He obeyed you quickly, adjusting his thrusts to only hit where you wanted him, marveling at your breathy demands. You should have been wincing in pain from the constant onslaught on such a sensitive area, but instead tears were pooling in your eyes, the pleasure squeezing your hips and thighs and lips of your cunt as you moaned unashamedly into the air of your bedroom.

“So fucking beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the yelp that left your mouth, cheeks coloring in embarrassment as you bit the corner of your lip, giving way for the moans to leak from the side of your mouth. You cunt gave another flutter around him, legs tensing and toes curling as brush after brush of his tip against that spot inside you had the tears finally spilling from the corners of your eyes. Your curls were wild beneath you, pooling on the pillow and sticking to the sweat on your face and neck.

“You don’t believe me?”

The hand at your hip grabbed an arm that was around his neck, bringing the skin of your wrist to his mouth before he pressed a soft kiss against your pulse. The breath leaving his mouth was quick against your skin, growing heavy and incessant with each pump inside of you. You couldn’t answer him, your throat was too busy pushing heavy moans out between pinched lips, eyes weighty with tears as you blinked them away constantly. You knew you were beautiful, but it was always scary to think about in such a vulnerable position like what you were in now, open and sweaty and aroused.

“I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. And now you’re finally beneath me; sweaty and messy and moaning like the sweet little thing you are. And all mine.”

Your heart was soaring, mind racing and barely functioning from the heat that was frying the tissue. Every nerve had been exposed and frayed from his intense gaze and heavy touch, every inch of you had been laid bare for him to gawk at, pick at, lick at until you were nothing more than a bubbling mess.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

His tone was hard and firm, demanding that you acknowledge your own vulnerability and face it head on as he plowed into you with renewed fervor, your cunt quivering once before squeezing him tightly.

“Y-yes!”

He growled beneath his breath, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Yes, what?”

He pressed his cock harshly to the spongy wall of your g-spot, pulling a wet moan from your lips as you arched your back and sobbed in pleasure, your lower back tightening.

“I’m yours! I’m yours!”

The admission slipping from your lips filled you with a sensation of warmth, marveling at the thought of him only wanting this with you.

“That’s right, baby. You’re right there, I can feel it.”

His acknowledgement seemed to spur you on, the tight muscles of your back heating and burning beneath your skin, your legs twitching and pussy pulsating around him as you felt that white hot sensation burn you from the inside out.

“Gonna cum—I can’t! Oh god, I’m gonna cum K-kento!”

You were clenching him constantly, pulling groans from his full lips and refusing to be ashamed as you choked on your breath, toes curling into the sheets and head pressing into the pillow behind you.

“Take what you want from me, darling. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

You felt a thumb dip down to gather the wetness around your cunt before he stroked once then twice on your clit, yanking the orgasm from your spine.

His name fell from your lips, tears leaking from the sides of your eyes as the pleasure ebbed and flowed over your skin, licking away the dying embers as your muscles loosened and relaxed and you came floating back into your body.

You were eyes were heavy and your chest was heaving to catch your breath; satisfied and exhausted but still ready for more so he could cum.

Kento pulled out of you slowly before rolling you both over, your body now on top of him and still panting against his chest as he moved you both back so that he could sit up and rest against the headboard of your bed. You pulled away from his sweaty skin to look at him; exhausted and satisfied heaving breaths hitting his face as you pulled your hips up to hover over him. His cock was throbbing and red and wet from your arousal, twitching incessantly and begging to be wrapped in your heat again as you dragged your puffy and quivering pussy along the thick head of his tip. You smashed your lips against his, licking into his eager mouth as you sank down onto him in one fluid movement, leaving no time for him to adjust at the sudden sensation.

Large hands wrapped around your waist, squeezing hard to ground himself from the onslaught of the tightness that you encompassed. He pulled away from the wet kiss, hissing deeply from the feel of you, a soft moan panting hot into your mouth before he was guiding your movements on top of him, helping you slide up and down his shaft, the action easy from the soaked juices of your folds.

It took less than a minute before you were a woman possessed, bouncing on his cock with not a care in the world. Kento was struggling to keep up, hands slipping on the sweat of your skin as he gripped you harshly, angling your hips in a way that had him sinking deeper without causing discomfort.

His hair was a mess, more locks stuck to his face and forehead, eyebrows pinched in concentration, full lips parted slightly as he panted against you.

Suddenly you felt his hands dig into the cheeks of your ass, digging his fingers into the plushness of your skin and angling your back to arch your body into him so he could slip inside further.

“You feel so fucking good. So, so good. Hot and wet and tight, such a good girl.”

You were delirious with pleasure as you listened to him, basking at the feel of his thick cock sliding along your gummy walls that were quaking with overuse. You were overstimulated beyond belief, quivering against him and teetering between pleasure and sensitivity, lips brushing against his with every bounce on his length. The thickness of him and the feeling of being split open stoked some primal fire inside of you, your clit throbbing unexpectantly as it brushed against the skin of his abdomen over and over, the sensation making you shake.

You were going to cum again.

Your eyes were wide with disbelief, but your body had a mind of its own, determined to bring you to nirvana one last time before you passed out against him. Your jaw went slack, hands digging into his hair to anchor yourself as you rode him with a newfound fervor that had him reeling.

He was in awe of you as he watched you take control, thigh muscles bunching and clenching with your movements, never ceasing even though they began to quake in pain. The smell of sex in the air, the feel of your hot skin against his, your gold necklace slapping against your collarbone, nipples brushing against his chest, slick from your pussy sliding along his shaft and down his balls, it was all too much. He felt faint, head foggy with lust and a steady coiling pleasure in his stomach and balls that was making his muscles ache.

Suddenly the sounds coming from your mouth morphed into words, quiet and whispered against his lips as you spoke with unfocused eyes.

“So big—so big, split—splitting me open. I’m so full. More, more, more.”

The words were falling from your lips, uncaring if he or anyone else heard them, cheeks red from exertion and stained with drying tears, hair clinging to your face, nails digging into his scalp as you rode him with only one goal in mind.

He realized with a satisfied thought that you were using him, taking him in whatever way you wanted for your own pleasure as your blown out and unfocused eyes stayed locked with his.

He hissed your name, the familiar feeling of his balls tightening egging him on. As quiet and serious of a man as Kento was, he was surprisingly vocal as his groans increased in consistency.

“Tell me how well I’m fucking you.”

His command sliced through the air between you both, forcing you to come back to reality just a little bit. You were already delirious with pleasure, brain barely functioning as the weak embers of your impending orgasm steered your bravery to let the words tumble from your lips.

“You’re fucking me so well. Big and thick and fucking me just how I like. Keep going, Kento. Don’t stop.”

He groaned harshly into your mouth, eyebrows furrowing severely as he chased his release and equally yours, his cock hitting that spot inside you ceaselessly and pulling tears to your eyes again as you felt your body alight with fire.

You were steadily chanting into the air, breathy and delirious whispers of don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop sliding into his ears, making his heart hammer against his chest, his fingers clench harder into your skin, his desire for you swelling and spilling over the edges of his seal of control. 

He reached between you both, stroking your clit at a rate that had you throwing your head back and hollering into the night air. He watched your Adams apple bob and stutter inside of your throat, moans piercing his ears as your entire body seized and you fell over the cliff of ecstasy for the final time of the night.

His name fell from your lips in a broken cry, fingers wet from the sweat in his hair, squeezing and pulling from the tautness of your muscles. Your head was swimming through the thick fog of pleasure as you came back down from your high, throat dry and stuck as you swallowed your dying moans, your body still moving atop of him as you realized through your haze that he still hadn't cum.

A sharp groan from him pulled you a little more into yourself, gentle moans still leaving your mouth on a staccato from the force of his thrusts up into you. He had taken control of your body completely, squeezing the flesh of your ass and bouncing you on his cock with a fervor that made your entire body jolt from each thrust. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, whimpering and moaning against his cheek, exhaling heavily against his face before you leaned over and pulled his earlobe into your mouth, biting down on the skin. He flinched against you, groaning from surprise and arousal as you licked over the bite marks of his ear.

“You can do it, Ken, hmm?”

You were mad with satisfaction, fucked loose and sweaty and reveling in his sudden sharp breaths and moans against your neck and as he climbed further and further towards his end.

You were encouraging him, breathing hard and heavy into his ear, clenching your core around him in a way that made him see white, the tightness in his balls making dark spots form at the sides of his vision. You weren't like this that night at the hotel. You were drunk and moaning, glaring at him at every chance you could get even though your eyes were rolling with ceaseless pleasure.

But now you were completely yourself; hot and messy, clinging to him until there was no space between you both, dripping slick on every part of his groin and thighs, moaning and whimpering into his ear yes, yes, please, cunt clenching him to the point of delicious pain. 

The thought of being able to have this with you for the unseeable future had him bucking up into you harder, faster, deeper into your pussy until you wailed in his ear, tears spilling over your cheeks as your felt yourself clench impossibly tighter around him.

“That’s it, Kento. Beat this pussy up until I’m sore. Fill me up.”

Your words caught him off guard, unearthing a deep seated part of his brain that he didn’t want to acknowledge as his orgasm pulled from behind his belly button and ripped through him.

“Shit—shit—fuck!”

He moaned hard against the skin of your neck, squeezing you tightly as you felt him twitch harshly and spill into your wet heat, the warmth of it making you moan softly into the sweaty skin of his neck. You relaxed against him, sagging into his chest as you both basked in the comfortable silence of the cooling temperature of your bedroom, only your heaving breaths filling the air. You felt him press a warm kiss to your temple, pulling you back to look at him.

You soaked in the sight of him; forehead sweaty and matted with soaked blonde hair, a heavy ruddy color in his cheeks, his lips swollen and red. The brown of his eyes was returning as he down at you with a warmth that made your chest bubble with an emotion you either couldn’t place or wouldn’t acknowledge right now. He looked…blissfully happy. And it was evident more as a close lipped smile slid onto his face when he leaned down to press his lips to yours. You found your fingers carding through the hair on the nape of his neck, massaging and stroking his scalp as he pulled away to look down at you, his serious expression laced with a finality of what you both had just done.

You hummed, looking up at him before pursing your lips, your lids heavy with idyllic satisfaction and exhaustion.

“Not bad, slick.”

Kento chuckled harshly against your cheek before landing a smack to your ass that had you gasping up against him, giggles bursting from your throat at the shock and excitement as you watched him roll his eyes dramatically and slide out of you with a playful glower before carrying your still giggling form to the bathroom.

***

You realized with shocking—and satisfying—clarity that Kento was clingy, especially after sex. He had always hovered around you in public and even alone before you two had started putting your hands on each other, but now that an orgasm and acknowledged feelings were in the picture, his hands never stopped reaching for you. He couldn’t keep to himself in the shower, using your ‘fragile state as the mother of his child’ (his words, not yours) as an excuse to wash your body. He tried his best to feel on you through the soft fabric of your towel as he dried you off, quiet and observing as he wiped the pellets of water from your skin. He did give you space when you put on lotion, content to watch you with silent curiosity, a towel hanging low on his waist, as you lathered shea butter into your skin, paying extra care to the swell of your stomach.

You didn’t mind at all. He wasn’t overbearing in the slightest, you could tell he was making up for lost time. But you loved it all the same.

It turns out he really was serious about that movie he had brought up earlier in the night You watched him open Netflix on your laptop, eyes practically bulging from your skull as he pressed play for a movie that you would have never imagined him taking a second glance at.

“The Proposal?”

He looked back at you with a straight face, eyes indifferent and relaxed, his drying hair flopping against his forehead. His torso was bare, muscles bunching as he twisted back towards you, grey sweatpants—you thanked Ome mentally for liking to sleep in big clothes—stretching against his thighs as he pulled himself back towards your pillows and manhandled you to sit between his legs with your back to his chest.

“Is there something wrong with The Proposal?”

His voice rumbled against your back as you watched him use his foot to bring your computer closer, the movie beginning to play.

You flinched for a second as his hands carded through your curls, ignoring the cut reaction to smack his fingers away, and staying quiet as he parted down the middle and separated the hair into sections before putting your hair into long three strand braids and sliding the bonnet from underneath your pillow onto your scalp.

“H-how did you—”

“While many may think I am aloof, I do not thrive on being arrogant and misinformed about others who are not like me. Our daughter will be half Black which means things will be different for her in a way unlike everyone else. That includes her hair which needs unique care to be healthy. So I’ve been…watching videos.”

He cleared his throat, thankful you couldn’t see just how red his cheeks were as his fingers pressed down into the small of your back, massaging the sore muscles and undoing any kinks from the exhausting sex you both had basked in.

You couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face, your cheeks aching from the stretch, chest filling with warmth as you watched the movie in front of you.

You knew Kento was a different breed, but it felt so good to see it, to hear it from him. It felt good to imagine him hunched over, eyes squinting in concentration as he watched a YouTube guru on his television show him what a washday routine looked like. It felt good to think of your daughter in the same position you were in now; between his legs and watching tv as he braided her hair before bed. You cursed inwardly, blinking furiously as you felt a tingle in your eyes, willing away the tears before they could build.

“You’ll be a good father, Kento.”

The conclusiveness in your voice was enough to reassure him as he pressed further into the flesh of your back, humming in acknowledgement. He watched the movie in silence, eyes locked on the screen and arm moving fluidly as he rubbed your skin, watching as Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds bickered with one another.

“Why this movie?” You found yourself asking, unable to hide the curiosity for long. You felt him shrug from behind you.

“It’s one of my favorites.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, forcing yourself to remember this moment so you could tell Ome tomorrow. Nanami Kento may be serious and indifferent with a face that barely conveyed how he was really feeling, but you had gotten to see almost everything that others would never get to. They wouldn’t get to watch reality tv with him or try to bargain pieces of his R&B collection. They wouldn’t get to know that he liked cheese pizza with no toppings and thick crust.

Not even now would they be able to marvel at the rare low laugh that fell from his open lips, deep in his gut and free flowing against your neck, your body shaking with the force of him as both the main characters ran stark naked into each other on the screen of your laptop.

This Kento was reserved only for you.

[pedrisbanana]

Maybe a fic about y/n being a footballer for fcb? And her and Pedri share the same number and have a lot in common? ( I’m pretty sure his teammates would tease him and ship them to get him mad (even tho Pedri likes it) btw I love your fics!! 💓

Sometimes destiny likes to watch football...

Enjoy 🍌

The Only Number 8

It all started during the international break. Due to the lack of players staying in Barcelona for the two week break, it was decided that the women's and men's first teams train together. 

You were one of the last to arrive at the training grounds and you immediately joined the small group for their warm up run. Being on friendly terms with most of the players from the first team, you set a pace were you could chat with Ferran Torres and Pablo Torre. 

"Did you steal Pedri's clothes? You look exactly like him, just with better looks." Ferran commented, eyeing your outfit. 

You laughed. "You forgot that I'm a better midfielder as well. It's not my fault were both under contract at Adidas-" 

Ferran gave you a look. "Adidas, Plátano de Canarias, Springfield, let alone the fact that you both wear the number 8"

"You two should make some cute Barcelona babies for the next generation of great midfielders" Pablo teased. 

"Pfft, not all of us want to support nepotism, please and thank you." You scoffed.

The brunette waved your comment about his family off and increased his pace. 

"I don't even know Pedri. The only time I talked to him was that mandatory congratulation ceremony they held for Alexia and Gavi the other day."

Ferran pushed you playfully. "We're just teasing you, okay. Relax." 

After the warm up, Xavi, who lead the training today, announced that you would partner up for exercises, so that both teams could improve by learning from each other. 

He started to read the list and of course he teamed you up with FC Barcelona's starboy. Earning laughter from both Ferran and Pablo, you shook your head. 

Pedri was making his way over to you. His hair was tousled from the slight breeze on this rather windy day. 

The royal blue of his shirt and matching shorts complimented his tan in a way that made it hard not to look at him. You weren't so sure anymore who of you has got the better looks, because Pedri set the bar quite high. 

A small smile crept upon his lips as he was approaching you. He scratched his chin where a shadow of stubble defined his jawline. He must've decided not to shave this morning. 

"Hi, you must be Y/N. I'm Pedri." 

He was slightly taller than you, so he had to tilt his head down a little bit. From the quick movements of his eyes you took that he scanned your face, maybe waiting for your reaction. 

"Es bueno conocerte a la fin" his canary spanish dialect was melodic, soothing almost. He extended his hand. 

His touch burned like fire, making your whole body shiver. Trapping your small hand with a firm grip, his thumb slightly brushed over the skin between your thumb and your index finger, causing you to let go of the breath you didn't realize you held until now. 

"Yes... I mean thank you.. umm you too I guess ?" You couldn't remember the last time you embarrassed yourself like this. You could only hope he didn't notice the effect he had on you, but he would have to be blind not to.

Luckily Xavi interrupted your rather uncomfortable conversation to instruct the first exercise.

- 

It's been a week since you've officially met the real number 8 of Barcelona and a week since you couldn't get him out of your head. The others didn't really help. They'd been teasing you and Pedri whenever they had the chance to, your only satisfaction being the slight blush that also crept upon Pedri's cheeks. 

Every training, Xavi paired you up with Pedri. It turned into some sort of silent competition on who was the better number 8. 

You two didn't talk about it. You weren't friends, just colleagues and you only had 3 days left of the break, then you would never see him again anyway.

Much to your luck, it was announced that there would be a special charity match. The women's team against the men's team and as if it couldn't be much worse, Pedri and you were chosen for the press conference. 

So now you stood here, dressed in lilac nike shorts and the matching shirt (both having a stitched on 8) and waited to be called in. You tightened your high ponytail and tried to look relaxed. 

Why were you even so nervous ?

A pull on your hair startled you. "Ow, what the he-" 

It was Pedri. He moved to stand in front of you, smirking. 

"Can't wait to kick your ass on the field on sunday." 

You scoffed. "Oh, like I kicked yours in training all week ?"

Pedri leaned back against the door to some attic next to the entrance of the media room. He crossed his arms, which made his biceps bulk up. Nike really needs to stop offering these armless tops. 

"I was holding back. You wouldn't be able to keep your balance if I really tackled you."  he eyed you up and down, making you straighten your posture. 

"Pff. We'll see who's the better 8 then." you replied, stepping closer. "I won't be the one on my knees begging for a freekick." 

His smirk widened, looking at your lips, then into your eyes. Your lips parted, mouth dry from the sudden closeness. You could feel his breath on your face, sending shivers down your spine.

"Oh I'll personally make sure that you'll be on your knees." His eyes flickered behind you, obviously annoyed that he was interrupted by the media representative. 

"Pedri. Y/N. We're starting." 

Giving a quick nod to him, you wanted to go ahead, but Pedri stopped you. His hand cupped your cheek. The pads of his fingertips were rough against the soft skin of your face. The touch burned and pleasure shot straight in between your thighs. 

"Begging you'll be too. Not only for a freekick, te lo prometo" 

He followed the media representative into the room. After collecting yourself, you followed as well. Journalists were already seated in rows in front of the large podium. 

Stepping up onto the small stage, Pedri smiled and held out the chair for you. Obviously to trick the journalists into thinking he's a gentleman. You smiled back and thanked him. 

When the media representative gave his small instruction, you tried to calm and crossed your legs. Big mistake. 

The earlier conversation with Pedri had left you more aroused that you expected. Your panties were completely soaked. 

Smiling at the crowd you, leaned forward, trying to concentrate on the first question. A middle aged woman with blonde hair introduced herself and asked Pedri about him missing nations league qualifiers. 

You rolled your eyes. It had been all over the news for the past weeks. The brunette midfielder hadn't been nominated for the national team. What a scandal ! 

As Pedri gave his answer, you felt a burning touch on your knee. 

Pedri. Or better his hand. 

That bastard sneaked his hand up your exposed thigh. He pushed at your leg, making you uncross them. Neither his facial expression or tone changed. 

He nodded to the woman and waited for the next question, all while pushing your legs further apart to make room for his hand. 

He wasn't going to-

His fingers sneaked into your shorts, pushing your panties to the side, interrupting your thought. 

Oh fuck. He was going to. 

He shot you a surprised, but smug look when he felt that you were dripping wet. You caught his wrist, holding it in place to keep him from moving any further. 

The next question was addressed to you. How you felt about playing against the first team. 

"Oh-" you swallowed. It came out as a moan, because Pedri managed to loosen your grip on his wrist and started to explore your slick folds with his long fingers. 

He cleared his throat. A message to you. 

Concentrate or I'll embarrass you in front of everyone.

So he wasn't joking. 

"I think it's a great opportunity to show our abilities-" you paused. 

Pedri's finger found your entrance, slowly pushing in. You clenched around him. 

"-abilities and that women's football can be just as exciting as men's. We hope we can pick up some new fans."

You forced a smile. Pedri added another finger. He pushed them in and out teasingly slow. Your clit was pulsing for friction. 

"Are you okay, Y/N ?" he asked and faked a concerned look on his face, as if he wasn't fingering you under the table. 

He really enjoyed this. 

"I'm just a little-" your breath hitched. 

A third finger. Knuckle deep and curling inside of you. 

"-nervous." 

"No need to be. We're all here to support you and no one wants to make you uncomfortable." 

Every word that came from his mouth pushed your urge to come for his throat. 

You pushed your thighs together to create some friction on your bundle of nerves, but it only made Pedri slide his fingers in deeper. 

Luckily the journalists didn't want to startle you any further and only asked Pedri some questions. He answered them with quick sentences, like the well-behaved professional he was. 

Meanwhile you tried not to moan out loud. He was very skilled with his fingers, twisting and curling them inside of you, spurring you on. If only he wasn't avoiding the spot that needed the most attention. 

You bit your lip before you could whimper out his name. The teasing idiot retracted his fingers and hand from your lap. The digits were glistening from your arousal. You expected him to wipe them on his shirt, but he didn't. 

Instead, his other hand reached for one of the Gatorade bottles on display and opened it just as skilled as you knew he was with his other hand. You were hypnotized by his movements.

What was he up to now ? 

Squeezing the bottle just the right amount, a little bit of liquid spilled, coating the table and the hand that had been inside of you mere seconds ago. He laughed, looking at the crowd. They joined in. 

"I'm sorry." It was a genuine laugh, but you knew this show was for specifically for you. 

Your lips parted as Pedri took each of the three fingers coated in your wetness and lemon - lime Gatorade, one after another, between his lips and sucked them clean. 

You swallowed, not daring to breathe. He stopped at his index finger. 

"Did they change the recipe ? It tastes better than before." he turned to look at you. 

Extending his hand to you, he raised his eyebrow. "Don't you think ?" 

Was he really offering you to suck on his finger right now ? In front of the press ? 

Sure. Everyone knew that the lemon - lime flavor was another similarity between you two. It was the best one. 

You contemplated the choices in your head. If you declined, you'd turn tables and embarrass him. If you didn't, you and Pedri would be all over the news tomorrow. 

Smiling to yourself, you grabbed his wrist and brought his hand up to your lips. Locking eyes with him, you guided his index finger into your mouth. Just the tip. You didn't want to give a whole show, being in public after all. 

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, letting go of him. The sour taste mixed with the sweetness of your own arousal spread on your tastebuds. 

"You're right. It's better now." 

Pedri flushed, making you smile in victory. 

The media representative closed the press conference and stood up to lead the two of you out the room. As the midfielder stood up, your smile dropped. 

He was so hard in his sweatpants, it looked painful. 

His dark blue Nike tech fleece pants were showing a very prominent bulge, but with a confidence like he had, he of course didn't seem to care and stood up. 

Pedri waited for you to go ahead and you urgently prayed that there wasn't a dark spot on your lilac shorts. 

No one seemed to notice the little action that happened between you and him. 

Feeling relieved that you survived it, Pedri suddenly pushed you into the little attic next to the media room with him. 

His lips captured yours into a feverish kiss, leaving you breathless. Once again, his hands found the spot between your thighs, this time pushing your shorts and underwear down first, baring you to him. 

You moaned his name into the kiss and he broke it. Lips wandering from your cheek to your neck, he pulled you closer. His erection pressed against your thigh and you cupped it, making him hiss. 

Pulling away, he helped you undress him, sweatpants and briefs falling to his ankles. His dick was swollen and the tip red. Precum leaked and you caught a drop, spreading it with your thumb, massaging him. 

He dropped his forehead to yours. His pupils were blown wide and he looked helpless from pleasure. Neither of you talked. You didn't need words. Maybe you were linked by faith or something after all. 

Holding onto your hips, he thrust forward. Slowly, guided him inside of you. His length was stretching you even more than his fingers. He felt heavenly. You dropped your head back inviting his lips to explore your throat. 

His thrusts were needy and sloppy, but they massaged just the right spot inside of you over and over again. With your hands tangling in his hair, you tried to meet him.

Your heart was thumping in your ears as he pushed your shirt up, exposing your cleavage. His hands were definitely going to leave bruises on your hips when they wandered down again. His thumb found your clit and you screamed out. 

The whole teasing had you sensitive and aching for touch. You felt him whisper some Spanish against your breasts in between kisses, but you couldn't hear him. 

You held onto him even tighter when you felt your orgasm building up. Only a few more thrusts and he had you over the edge. He looked up at you and stopped his actions, earning a disappointed whimper from you. 

"If you want to come, beg me." The same smug expression from earlier crept upon his flushed, sweaty, beautiful face. You wanted to slap him. 

"Pedri-" you tried to move your hips. 

His lips were kissing your chin and jawline. "I'll pull out." 

He started to withdraw, which made you pull at his shirt. 

"No, please. Pedri. Make me come. Please." you whispered into the thick air. 

You looked at him. He stopped, waiting. 

"Please Pedri. I need you. I need you so badly. I need you to make me come. Please." The pleas came out of your mouth almost automatically and didn't stop when he picked up his thrusts again.

Your whole body was shaking and the blood rushed in your ears. All you could think was Pedri. 

Pedri. Pedri. Pedri. 

He pressed his face into your chest when he followed. His moans muffled by the soft flesh. 

Being out of breath you held each other for a few seconds, enjoying the bliss. 

Pedri pulled up your panties and shorts again, kissing your inner thigh softly. 

"I'm still going to make you beg for that freekick, princesa"

A/N: I know y'all love when Pedri's acting like an asshole😌

This was really hard to write as a one part, so I hope it doesn't feel rushed.

I'm excited for your feedback 🥰

[justmystyles]

Hey, you are literally one of my favorite writers out here. I honestly love every piece you've written, it's just all really really really good. (guess I am not as good with words as you, oops)

Anyway, I am so glad your requests are open. I was wondering if you could write something where the reader comes from a difficult family. emotionally abusive mother, distant father, eldest daughter syndrome, all that jazz.

So she's sort of moved away but still keeps in touch with her family cuz she does sorta love them but it's hard. So it's like she's got some body image issues and she's closed off, pretty funny but likes to use humor to hide her feelings, has a lot of acquaintances but doesn't like sharing herself with people much (why do I feel like I am describing someone specific lol)

And one day it all just becomes too much ig. I don't know exactly how the story goes, guess I am just looking for some comfort. had a weird few days.

Honestly, love you work. You're great. Thank you for reading that bs. Doesn't matter much if you decide to write it or not. You're already perfect. <3

Let's talk about this ask I got a few weeks ago, shall we?

First of all, I am honored to be considered one of your favorite writers on here, your words are so sweet and I love you.

Now, getting down to business, this ask genuinely made me cry because I know this reader. I am this reader and it was truly terrifying that a stranger on the internet described me so well to me. As soon as I read this, I knew it was going to be my next series, and after weeks of taking down notes and ideas, I finally started actually writing it today.

It'll still be a bit before I start putting it out there, this premise means so much to me that I want to really take my time and do it the justice it deserves, but I have included a little teaser for you below the read more so that you can get a taste of what I'm working on. I've also tagged my tag list peeps so that you all can see what I've been up to.

I'll still be working on NYIML and the other asks I have (if you sent me one, I love you and I'm working on it, please be patient, life has kind of blown up over the last week or so).

You would watch on in awe, watching the music come to life, watching Harry work. From time to time, you would meet his gaze, noticing a softness in his eyes that warmed your insides. You brushed your feelings off, reminding yourself that Harry was just a kind person. He probably looked at everyone like that. He would often invite you to join the group for lunch, or drinks after a successful session. You always declined politely, certain he was just asking to be polite. 

But Harry wasn’t just asking to be polite, and those looks that he threw in your direction were different than the way he would look at anyone else. He was fascinated by you, he felt like he needed to know more. When he met you, he thought you were beautiful, and the refreshments that you had laid out showed how kind and thoughtful you were. But he knew there was more to you, and he couldn’t wait to find out all of it.

You truly were the studio mom, always making sure everyone had what they needed. You would bring coffee and breakfast in the morning, make everyone’s lunch orders, or reservations if they decided to go out. But you would never join them. He found that curious, but also disappointing. He understood if you wanted to focus on work while you were all locked away in the studio, hoping to take those lunches and extra curricular times to get to know you, but those moments never came. 

He had asked your coworkers about you, hoping to gain some kind of intel that could help him break the ice. Everyone told him how sweet you were, always asking about them and their goings on, but often changing the subject when the conversation would turn to you. He also learned about how funny you were. He would have never guessed, based on how quiet you’d been around him. He figured some of that was because of his celebrity status, he was used to people being shy around him, but they would typically warm up over time. You hadn’t. 

There was a bit of worry in his mind that maybe you had an issue with him. You weren’t cold with him, you had always been incredibly kind in your interactions with him and that threw him for a loop. He racked his brain, trying to think of anything he might have said or done to upset you, but nothing came to mind. Perhaps you just weren’t a fan of his? Whatever it was, he was determined to figure it out. 

One afternoon, he was coming back from lunch and he overheard you talking to someone in one of the studios. He lingered by the doorway, he knew eavesdropping was wrong, but he was desperate. 

The conversation wasn’t much, you were just talking about a television show, but he heard the excitement in your voice and couldn’t help but smile. You sounded so cute. And then you laughed, and he could have died right there on the spot. You had an incredible laugh. He wanted to do anything to be the reason that beautiful sound came out of your mouth. 

Harry was so distracted that he didn’t notice that you were coming out of the studio. You weren’t expecting anyone to be standing there, so you bumped right into him. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry Harry.” Your eyes were wide with panic.

He put his hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Don’t be. That was on me. It’s what I get for zoning off in front of doors.” He chuckled. 

You smiled politely and nodded at him. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

“I was actually hoping to talk–”

He was interrupted by the ring of your phone. You pulled it out of your pocket and saw your mother’s name flash across the screen. “Crap, I’m so sorry it’s my mom. Do you mind if I take this?”

“No, not at all. You should always take calls from your mum.” 

“Right,” you scoff. “You’ve never talked to my mother.” You answer the phone, walking away quickly. 

He noticed your posture stiffen when you answered, and he hoped everything was okay. Once you were out of sight, he left, returning to the studio. “Y/N is taking a phone call, she’ll be right back.” 

When you finally returned, you apologized with a smile on your face, but Harry could see the sadness in your eyes. You took a seat at the computer, and he came up behind you, placing his hand softly on your back. You subconsciously relaxed into his touch. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked. 

You put on your best fake smile, which he immediately saw though. “Yeah, thanks.” 

He wanted to press, but he knew it wasn’t the right time or place. He also wasn’t totally sure you even liked him.

@allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

[matt-imagines-popcorn]

Hello! I hope you're day's been good, if not I send my condolences that it gets better. Would it be okay if I could get some relationship headcanons for Juri Han? Sorry if it isn't, if you don't want to do them it's perfectly fine! Either way, thanks for taking the time to read this, have a great week!

These two requests are similar so hopefully you fellas don't mind if I mixed the two together!

Being in a relationship with Juri Han [Male! Fighter! Reader]

As much of a flirt as Juri is … she really wasn’t looking for a deep relationship. I imagine being in a relationship like that, no matter how many times she tries to deny it, terrifies her. Juri is a wanted woman. Always on the run. It's easier to do that when you have as little baggage as possible. Not to mention, her enemies. Many of which wouldn’t hesitate on torturing or even killing you to get to her. It stings slightly less since she knows her boyfriend can hold up a good fight but it still worries her deep down.

She doesn’t hold back during sparring … like at all. What's the point of holding back her true potential if you're trying to get better right? That's her excuse anyways but everyone can see right through it. Juri’s a sadist, she likes being the cause of one's pain, even her boyfriend. Though, she won’t hurt him enough to cause any permanent danger and (in her own way} gets concerned if she happened to draw blood during sparring or more suggestive workouts.

Juri is … one way to put it possessive over her partner. She’s the only one who can kick your ass, the only one who can tease you till your face feels like burning off, you belong to her and her only and she’ll be damned to hell before anyone even tries to take you away from her. 

She’s a constant tease, giving no moment to let her boyfriend have a breather. However, she has no patience with being teased herself though. She is tough as steel, damn impossible to fluster. Inpatient as well. If you take too long she will steal the show and take what's hers. The closest you are probably ever going to get to her getting all blushy, is being rougher on her during sparring or other activities 

Juri would probably consider a long quiet motorcycle ride through the city as a date and calls it a day. She isn’t much for the whole, romantic dinner sort of thing. Or anything fancy of the sort.  She tries to avoid moments where she is forced to talk about herself. She is rather secretive about her past, and any conversation about it, especially her eye, is shut down immediately. 

It’s rare to find Juri being in a soft mood. As mentioned before, she tries not to fall in too deep, in case she has to run off again. But it has happened at least once.

 She was quieter, which can be worrying for some but she just seems so much more relaxed, being in the moment, with her eyes closed. You never saw her more at peace before. Laying on the couch next to her, she found her hands on you, soft touches all over your body. 

When she realizes what doing, however, she returns to her normal self. But that night, she runs off. Leaving nothing behind, not answering her calls. You really thought you lost her.

But, you being a fighter and constantly joining tournaments, it wouldn’t be long before you saw her again - perhaps get back together only for the cycle of her leaving to start all over, or maybe, just maybe, she’ll stay [or at least keep in contact the next time she has to book it]

I do apologize for taking so long! As much as I hate making excuses, I've been busy with school + currently really into Darkstalkers due to some pals of mine!

[tessatales]

Touch Starved ✨Pietro✨ Part 2

@whatthefsposts asked for a part 2- so here it is! (Apologies for how late it is- life is cruel and gets in the way of writing unfortunately 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Anyways! I hope you enjoy!

*Your POV*

I can’t believe you’ve managed to drag me out to watch this film again” You groan, dragging your feet as you follow the ticket line with Pietro. The silver speedster laughed, poking you lightly in the arm as he did.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it last time! Anyway, you wanted to get out of the tower” Pietro replied. You shook your head, laughing to yourself as you made it to the front of the line. You’d never admit it, but you’d make up any excuse to spend time with Pietro. Since your cowardly confession a few weeks ago, you’d been playing Wanda’s words in your head on loop.

“You know you’ll have to tell him when he’s awake next time, right?”

And she was right, Wanda usually was. But since then, the words had gotten stuck in your throat whenever you’d tried to broach the subject. So you opted to spend as much time as you could with the speedster, hoping for the moments the words could slip freely from your lips again.

“Excuse me, you’re Quick Silver, right?” A voice said from behind them, making both you and Pietro turn. Behind them stood two ladies roughly your age, with matching pretty brown eyes and blond hair that clearly showed they were sisters.

“That’s me” Pietro replied, giving the pair a lopsided smile. Something in your gut twisted.

“I’ll go get us some popcorn” You mutter as you stalk away, leaving Pietro to his fans as a heavy weight began to form in your stomach.

*Pietro’s POV*

“Have you ever tried to measure your speed? Or has Mr Stark? Oh or Dr Banner?” One of the girls in front of Pietro asked- Laura? Or was that her sisters name? He honestly wasn’t sure. As much as he wanted to answer the questions presented to him, he was to busy trying to spot Y/N in the popcorn line.

Where was she?

“Uh, not really, I tend to melt the electrics of anything they strap to me. I’m really sorry ladies but I’m kind of meant to be on a date-” Pietro said, cutting himself off. A date? Did he think this was a date?

Of course it is, the question is does Y/N think it’s a date?

“Oh we’re so sorry! Thank you for speaking with us!” The girls said, smiling brightly as they walked away. No longer occupied, Pietro went on his way to find Y/N.

********

“There you are!” Pietro said with a sigh, dropping into his cinema seat beside Y/N. When he couldn’t find her in the popcorn, he’d made his way around the cinema and surrounding arcade looking for her, only to find her, popcorn in hand sat in their ticketed seats in the theatre.

“Sorry, I had so much to carry I decided to come sit down and then find you after” Y/N said, her face turned towards the big screen in front of them. Pietro frowned.

“You could of shouted me.” Pietro said, reaching for his soda as he tried to shake the feeling that something was bothering Y/N.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation” Y/N said simply before turning fully to the cinema screen.

*********

There was definitely something wrong with Y/N. Not only had they spent the majority of the film completely silent, but they’d kept up the quite all the way back to the tower too.

“Did something happen while I was gone?” Pietro asked as the pair entered the lift. Y/N shook her head.

“No, why do you ask?” Y/N replied, addressing her question to the lift doors rather than Pietro, causing his gut to twist horribly. She’d not looked at him properly since they’d left the cinema.

“You always talk through movies, we always talk through movies. That why we have to go together or we annoy everyone else.” Pietro said, watching Y/N’s profile as he spoke.

“I think the soda made my stomach hurt. Nothing to worry about” Y/N said as her lips tipped slightly. Lie her lips only tipped like that when she was lying.

The ding of the lift arriving at the top broke Pietro out of his shock. Y/N was actively lying to him. Why?

“Did they ask for your number?” Y/N said suddenly, her back to you as you both wondered through the hall that led to the main living space of the tower.

“Who?” Pietro said, racking his brain for who she could mean. That’s when she finally faced him, her eyes distant as she searched his face.

“The girls at the cinema” Y/N clarified with a shrug, her movements seeming almost mechanical. Something clicked in Pietro’s head.

“Y/N, your not jealous are you?” Pietro asked with confusion. Y/N’s skin paled.

‘I…” Y/N began.

“It’s totally okay if people don’t recognise you yet! You’ll get fans sooner or later” Pietro said with smile, only to feel it drop from his face when he noticed Y/N’s expression. She’d gone from pale to pink, her hands shaking in the fists she’d created at her sides.

“Oh sure! That’s why I’m angry, because I wasn’t recognised!” Y/N seethed, her words reverberating around the empty halls of the tower. Pietro took an involuntary step back.

“Whoa Y/N calm down-”

“Do not tell me to calm down! Damn it Pietro I thought you knew me well enough to know I don’t give two shits about fame!” Y/N said, her voice lower but still full of anger. Pietro was frozen in complete confusion. Before he could get his brain going again, Y/N turned tail and ran.

Pietro stood dumbfounded for a moment, watching Y/N as she ran down the hall to her rooms. For a moment, he let his speed catch up to him, allowing him to see just how slowly her run became if he let his power take over. When he allowed himself to think and feel his power, everything slowed; even the seconds on the clock seemed to stretch for years.

Without a thought, Pietro was in front of Y/N again, catching her body as she slammed into his chest.

“Damn you, your supposed to let me run” Y/N said through gritted teeth, her face shining with tears in the dim hall light. Pietro felt the colour leave his face.

“Why are you crying?” Pietro whispered, stroking the back of his hand lightly against Y/N’s face, wiping away the tears that still spilled from her eyes

“If you can’t put all the pieces together now, I don’t think your ready to know” Y/N said simply, her gaze distant as she stared at him. Pietro frowned, what could she-

Oh

He wasn’t sure if it was the events of tonight that had hit the mark or if his mind was finally working slower than light speed but it clicked.

Are you sure?

The doubt in his mind said, clawing at him to reconsider his conclusion.

“Only one way to find out” Pietro murmured before kissing Y/N.

*Your POV*

You’d assumed that your first kiss with Pietro would be quick, just like he was. Fast and unpredictable and full of force. But you were wrong. Your first kiss with Pietro just felt right.

His lips were soft against yours, every movement you or he made seemed to be in perfect sync. Without realising it, you’d moved your hands to snake their way into his hair, the strands soft between your fingers.

You felt as Pietro pressed you closer to the wall, the contact from his body sending chills through you as you gasped for air between kisses.

When you finally broke apart, you couldn’t feel your legs, your entire body seeming to be supported by Pietro’s body against yours. As you stared into each others eyes you knew that it wasn’t time for words. You simply rested your forehead against Pietro’s and breathed him in; knowing that when the time for words came, you two would be able to define who you were to each other.

But right now?

Right now was reserved for people who just knew that whatever this was; it was right.

[chibikisu]

Twisted Wonderland Idia x GN! Reader: Nervous

" THINK. CORRECTLY. MAKE YOUR MIND WORK IDIA. SAY SOMETH- “YOUR BEAUTIFUL!” NOT THAT!!! ABORT! ABORT MISSION!! FLEE! "

* ~ In which Idia embarrasses himself in front of his crush and thus becomes full of anxiety and a bit dramatic.. Feat. Ortho! ~*

A/N: So I tried my hand at making a Twisted Wonderland Reader Insert. Why did I choose Idia? Honestly Idk. Maybe it backfired on me or maybe I'm just rusty in my writing since it's been like a year. Anyways let me know what you think and if it was as all over the place as I feel it is. lol I promise the next should be alot better!

Idia really didn't know what was going on. I mean he wasn't an idiot, he knew WHAT he was feeling. He just didn't like feeling it. Wait no! Not like that! He did like feeling this feeling and WHO he was feeling it for. He just didn't like how it made him feel like a Noob in a lobby full of Pros in one of the most common video games.. Idia groaned and sighed for the hundredth time and fell back on his bed. He had made a fool out of himself (as usual) in front of (Y/N) and really felt the blow to his HP this time. As such he has been locked in his room; more than his usual he would say; and been trying to recover from the said incident. Ortho on the other hand had never seen him so gloomy or something he thought was just a simple misunderstanding.. “C'mon! Big Bro! Open up!” Ortho yells over the 8-bit aesthetic music trying to tune him out, inside of his Older brothers room. “I know you can hear me!!” He knocks on the door multiple times. Still nothing. Sighing Ortho recalls the data he saw earlier in the day before his Brother became like this. It was with the Prefect (Y/N). From what he could tell he could see them conversing but he was only able to catch half of what was said between the two. “hmm..” Ortho goes over the data from the beginning and sees if he can find the problem.

**-//Reviewing Data: NRC 15:45 Courtyard//-**

The video data shows Ortho seeing both the Prefect (Y/N) talking with Idia. Ortho tunes in with his upgraded hearing after noticing that Idia's heart rate has gone up significantly and his body temperature as well. Oh no! Was he getting sick? The Prefect must be there to take him to the nurse since he was making a face like he was trying not to get sick right there. Still, Ortho wanted to make sure his brother was okay.

“You sure your okay Idia?” (Y/N) smiled worriedly as they went to gently touch his lower arm. Stiffing up with a quick “EEP?!” Idia quickly swerved away just enough to where the prefect wasn't able to touch him. “??” (Y/N) brought their hand back and didn't push it any farther, Idia already looked as if he was slowly turning into a ghost. His skin seemed paler than usual and you could of sworn he was trembling slightly..or was that just your imagination? Trying to change the subject and hoping to make him smile they suggest “I was thinking..since I finally have some free time this week and Grimm will be hanging out with Deuce and Ace. Maybe I could hang out with you and you could show me how to play that um..what's it called again? Kingdom Moon Finally?” Idia winces a slightly at their guess “Actually It's Final Kingdom Moon: One digital star to rule them all! But uh..yeah close enough.” Idia starts fiddling his hands. (Y/N) laughs “Sorry, I'll try to remember that for next time.” Idia's eyes widen and suddenly he's panicking. “Y-you don't have to remember it! I-I mean I don't expect you to!” (Y/N) goes to open their mouth when Idia seems to have heard his own words and panics even more “I-I mean I don't expect you to remember the game's name! N-not that you couldn't! You seem very smart and talented and overall just very uh...erm.” THINK. CORRECTLY. MAKE YOUR MIND WORK IDIA. SAY SOMETH- “YOUR BEAUTIFUL!” NOT THAT!!! ABORT! ABORT MISSION!! FLEE!

**-//Reviewing Data: NRC 15:55 Courtyard – COMPLETE -//-**

The footage stops as that's when Ortho had to chase after his Older Brother after he had mad a dash for the dorms. Leaving poor (Y/N) behind in confusion. “What could have made Big brother leave like that?..” Ortho thought while still standing next to the elders door. Hmm..Everything seemed fine until (Y/N) said they would remember the game's name for next time.. ?! Oh.

Ortho Knocked on Idia's door again. “It's okay Big Bro!” Ortho smiled to himself. “I'm sure (Y/N) won't be hanging out with you anymore!” Suddenly the music stopped and it turned eerily quite.

The door creaked as it opened just slightly and Idia was only visible in the dark room by the glowing of his hair. “....ortho..” Ortho's eyes widened. What happened?!

Idia's eyes bore into Ortho's worried big eyes and asked with a serious tone. “Why...why would you tell me that?..” Ortho tried gently pushing the door open a little more before answering “Well..I thought the whole reason you ran away from the prefect was because you didn't want them hanging out with you? Y-You seemed to panic once they said 'next time'.” Idia nodded and then asked “Is that what it looked like?” Ortho just silently nodded after slowly opening the door to see Idia wrapped in a blanket, fall face first on the ground. “K.O. Critical Hit!” Ortho walks and sits next to his brother on the floor. “Uh..What?” Idia them mumbles something that's not distinguished enough to be heard while Idia is still face first on the floor. Rolling him over proves harder to do as every time Ortho pushes Idia upright he just turns over again. “Big Bro!” “Leave me alone Ortho. It's over. I can never show my face out there again.” Ortho Deadpans. “Big Bro, you never really went outside much anyways..” “Ouch. Double Kill.” “BIG BRO.” Idia finally sits up and groans hands on his face. “Well I defiantly can't now! You saw how it went! You even said you thought I didn't want to hang out with (Y/N)!” “You do?” Ortho tilts his head. “YES!! More than anything I do!” Idia yells while throwing his hands up in the air. “But I thought that when (Y/N) said 'Next time' you were freaking out?” “YES!! BECAUSE THERE WOULD BE A NEXT TIME!!!” “And You want that to happen?” “Ortho. I don't know how much louder I can yell yes anymore.” Idia looks at Ortho. Meanwhile Ortho sits there thinking. After a while he grins “Ooh! THAT'S why your body temperature and heart rate were so high while talking to them! You LIKE them!!” Blushing Idia looks away from his little brothers discovery and mumbles “Man..way to get all in my business..” Still he can't be mad at him. “Well! Let's go tell them that you would love to hang out!” “WOAH. Pause. on. That. Let's not get to riled up here. You saw how I freaked today.” Idia grows worried again. “It always happens like that! It goes..er..okay? And then they say something that throws me off and I just go into high drive into whatever I can think the fastest.” He lets out a high pitched squeak. “And today the first thing was calling them BEAUTIFUL! EEEE” “Ortho pats his brother's back. “I can try to help you ask them to play games somewhere that's not as personal and secluded like your room. Maybee...like..The Board game club!” Ortho nods happy with his idea. “It wouldn't be as close and intimate but it's a good start!” Idia looks down at his lap. “I don't know..what if they don't want to bother with me anymore?” “That's why we ask! What's the worst that could happen?” Idia furows his brows. “They say no? And then I have to know that I ruined my shot with them and it be awkward for the rest of my school life-” “Don't be so dramatic Brother.” Orhto sighs. Honestly, sometimes it seems like Idia can give Rook a competition at being dramatic at times..

( Y/N) keeps looking at their phone while debating on texting Idia if maybe they overwhelmed them too much today. They knew he could get overwhelmed pretty easily and would hate to be the reason for it. Beginning to type out a message the receive a message from the one person they were just trying to reach out to. “Idia?..messaged me?” You really weren't expecting to receive a message from him after earlier today, but yet here the notification was. Making sure Grimm wasn't snooping you opened the message to smile to yourself.

'Hey..If U want U could always come to the board game club and we could play co-op sometime..if U want.'

Idia always was so cute when he was nervous, at least to you he was. But you were slightly biased. Typing a reply of “I'd love 2” you turn off your phone and have a slight skip to your step as you go on with the rest of your day, now having something to look forward to with your favorite person.

[chimielie]

hello lia! sora here :) so sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for a while, things were a little tough. not sure if by drabble requests you meant something like this, but i'm currently working on a longfic centered around kuroo (and someone else!) on ao3 and i wonder if you might write something for him if you're in the mood... maybe something with the line "why can't you see that i like you?" ofc no pressure, and hope you have a good week! take care!! + hopefully this staves off hinge LOL

object impermanence

word count: 1.2k

cw: mild angst with a happy ending, possibly a confusing timeline, reader is an art student

a/n: oh my GOD that’s so exciting eeee can’t wait to read it!!! tysm and i hope times get easier for u :(( sending my love. also sorry this is so late i could Not figure out a plot but i’m actually quite happy with what i spit out (it’s 2 am this opinion is liable to change with proper rest)

It’s in a café, a pretentious, dimly-lit place with oil paintings on the walls and a back stair with a balcony for smoking that things unravel. You’re careful, or you try to be, but—well. The heart wants what it wants, and yours is very willful.

Kuroo is shoved into the corner next to you, with the crushed-velvet pillows you were so afraid to spill coffee on. There had been three of you earlier, you and your art history TA and him, and since the café was a literal sardine box you had found yourself trying to balance minimizing body contact and acting like he had the plague. Your TA had had to leave in a rush, and you’d been secretly a little glad, especially when Kuroo didn’t request that you take her former seat across from him.

You remembered him the first time you met, folding himself into your tiny apartment and looking sheepish when you had looked away from the dingy window above the sink you’d been sketching and asked who he was and why he was in your house. It had turned out that he was your roommate’s boyfriend, had been for about two months, and were they ready yet?

They weren’t, so you invited him to sit on the other chair at the table and wait. You hadn’t expected him to talk to you. You hadn’t expected him to be nice.

When you blurted you have a really striking face, I’d love to draw it during a lull in the conversation where you’d had no other option than to focus on the arrangement of features some people (bad roommates) would call handsome, you hadn’t expected him to ask would you really?

You were a bad roommate, though they didn’t know it, because you hadn’t kept in touch with them after moving out but you called Kuroo at least an hour every day before bed.

And you were a bad friend—to Kuroo, not your ex-roommate, because you’re pretty sure you had loved him from the first moment he’d asked after the perspective of your little window sketch.

“Your hair,” he says, and has to twist his whole torso around to get a good look. He catches a piece of it in between his thumb and forefinger, twiddles it back and forth and peers at it like it’s a specimen in a lab. “You changed it.”

“Hardly,” you say. “I just got a trim.”

“It’s different this time,” he says. “Isn’t it?” You purse your lips and blow across the top of your super-fancy tiny coffee cup, a futile exercise since you already drank half of it.

“I went to someplace new, I guess,” you say, and he lets out a whoop that makes you laugh and forget the rest of your words.

“I knew it,” he’s so smug. “I always know.”

“Yeah,” you bat at him so he drops your hair and it springs back, you can feel it in your scalp. “Who even notices things like that?”

“Me? When it’s you.”

“Oh, stop it.” You think. “What am I allergic to?”

“Peach skins and nickel,” he says immediately. “And when you were little you broke out in hives when you ate a pomegranate but you liked it so much you kept eating it anyway and eventually the reaction went away.”

“Your memory is insane,” you sip your coffee, staring at the rapidly diminishing amount. You can’t afford another one, not on your budget as an art student. Ugh.

“No,” he reiterates. “Only when it’s you.”

It started (really started) after your roommate had broken up with him, when you’d come home in the early morning and found him sitting outside your door, brown eyes red-rimmed and holding a box of his things like it weighed a thousand pounds. Let me get you some water, you’d said, and I’d ask you to come in, but. Ah. Sorry. Do you want my breakfast bowl for tomorrow? You had tried to be kind, even though it was hard. You were tired and you didn’t know what had happened and you still had to live with his ex without them hating you.

A few months had passed—you were no vulture, and had no way to reach out anyway. He had bumped into you on vacation in Paris, grabbed you by the shoulders, and looked at you in a way he never had before. It made everyone else on the busy street disappear.

I wanted to talk to you again. Would that be okay? I still have the picture you made me, somewhere.

Your friendship ripened with the seasons.

“I believe you,” you laugh.

“You don’t!” He runs a hand through his hair, jokingly frustrated, you think. And devastatingly attractive. “You always—like—downplay your importance in my life. Like you think I forget about you when I can’t see you. But I think about you all the time.”

“Kuroo, don’t,” you say, but it’s a mistake, because you always address him formally. Your last defense against him finding out all the boundaries you want to cross. It’s a mile between you, and your hip is still touching his.

“Why not?” He spreads his arms, and knocks over your tiny coffee cup. The rest of it spills out over the table, not even enough to drip off, and neither of you notice. “Why can’t you see that I like you?”

“Because you don’t,” you choke, and you hate getting emotional like this, hate that you hate confrontation. “We’re good friends. I’m not gonna be a rebound.”

“You’re not,” he says. “You won’t be.”

“I believe you,” you say again.

“Stop that,” he groans, looks at you again like he did in the street in Paris. “If you don’t want me, that’s fine, I’m just so bad at not wanting you.”

Kuroo is awful, eyes gleaming in the lamplight and hair oil-black and dressed like he’s old money, like he’s trying to impress you.

“Of course I want you,” you say, hot and still not leaning away from him so you can breathe.

“Good,” he looks a little starstruck, and maybe that’s when you start to believe that he can look at you and tell the truth. “Good. I can draw you up a list, later, when you’re not so fucking close to me and so—”

He tilts your chin with his fingers and kisses you and it’s a word between the both of you, a whole language of touch. The overripe peach falls off its branch and bursts on the ground. The coffee soaks into the discarded cloth napkins.

“You make it hard for me to think,” he says when he pulls back, breathless. “But I can write you an essay, ten pages, twelve point font, with citations, of all the ways I love you to prove it. I swear it.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” you say, and take his hand when you kiss him again. And it’s not careful like some of your first kisses have been. And your heart sings.

[trashiewrites]

yo, just got some potentially bad news concerning my health... ghost rlly is my comfort character at the moment. do you think you could write something where hes super sweet and comforts reader. or just something rlly sweet and loving. it would really really help. thanks ♡

I was really touched that you reached out, anon, so I made this fic my first priority! I really hope everything turned out okay for you and I wish I could of tailored this more to you but I hope this will do! I really wanted to put all the aspects and it ended up being really long! enjoy!

It's Going To Be Alright

(Ghost X F! Reader)

Words: 2811 (Legit the longest thing I've written I think)

It's funny just how the world works sometimes. You left your house that day to go out for a night in the town with some buddies. The day itself started normally. You woke up wrapped in the warm embrace of your boyfriend's arms, you couldn't help but cuddle in closer especially with how cool it's been getting as of late.

You both get out of bed and make breakfast together. Cold days like these call for delicious pancakes with your favorite toppings, sided with some eggs and other sides you love. Taking that first bite, melted you to your core—nothing like the first bite, especially of something warm.

"Do you have any plans today?" Simon questioned you. Munching quickly so you could answer him back, "don't rush, you'll-" too late, you already were having a coughing fit of something going down the wrong pipe. Simon stood, "Are you okay!"

You nodded as the coughing calmed down, gulping water. "Yeah, yep I'm fine!" Exhaling in relief, you looked back at Simon with a smile, "Anyways, remember I'm heading out with some friends tonight?"

"Ahh right, I remember." He nodded, "By the way, eat slower before you answer! What if you choked?"

"I'd have you to save me?"

"And if I wasn't?" he crossed his arms, assuming victory over this conversation.

"Why would I be talking to myself?" You took another small bite, "plus even if you aren't there, there ought to be someone else to whom I am chatting to." Simon groaned as he placed his hand on his face. "Got you there, didn't I?"

"Yeah, yeah; whatever you say (y/n)." You chuckled at his denial. "Anything else you going to do before your party?" You hummed as you thought for a moment.

"Groceries, get some other necessities, and gas my car probably. Gotta prep for next week." You spoke in between bites, "besides that, just the party in the evening."

"First of all, eat first for Christ's sake." You almost spat your drink at his remark, "Secondly, can I come with?" He spoke a wee bit quieter in the second part, it amazed you that after all your years of dating him he is still so shy about some things.

"Of course, you can come!" You stood up took your empty plate and stood beside him, "how could I not take advantage of spending time with my favorite man in the entire world" you leaned down, giving his forehead a big ol' smooch. Then heading to the sink, you began to wash your dishes. "Simon, you are done with your food?"

"Huh what? My plates, right... yeah, I'm done" he hands them to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Resting his chin upon the top of your head. You wiggle in his grasp slightly, "are you Uncomfortable? I can stop..." You shook your head.

"No, I'm fine, I'm all good. Continue sir." You lied; your face said it all but he was behind you. Which you were glad about. For about a week now it's been on and off headaches. Yet you didn't want it to stop you or to worry Simon. He already has so much on his plate. After the dishes, you went to your shared room to get ready. Taking a dose of painkillers to help the headache, making sure Simon wasn't around; Then you took a shower.

Shopping went off without a hitch, to the usual stores with your masked lover was interesting though. Having to explain how he's not planning to steal stuff from one lady was fun. You rubbed his hand knowing he felt awkward about it. Having someone else do the picking up of everything was so nice! Lifting heavy cases of water with ease, man you should do this more often. You grab more of the stuff you know Simon likes cause he's going to be home for a while. Once in a while, he will come up to you with something. He doesn't say anything but you assume he wants it. He doesn't put it in till he gets approval from you, which you always say yes to.  Simon was staring at a package of avocados, intently... You pulled up with the cart and stared at the avocados with him. "Do you want avocados, Simon?" He looks at you, you look at him. He looked back at the avocados, went through them, and felt them out. He decides on one package and gently hands it over. "Avocados it is then." Heading home you couldn't help but feel Simon was in a very pleasant mood, which made you smile. Honestly, in moments like this, you remember why exactly you fell for this man.

You stood in the mirror, towel around your body as you did your make-up. It's been a long time since you've been to a party. You were a bit nervous, especially with the recurring headaches. You analyze your face, maybe you overdid it a bit but you looked amazing. "Can't wait till Simon sees this."

"I'm already seeing it~" You yelped as you turned to see him at the door.

"Simon! Don't fucking do that asshole!" You clenched your towel, making sure it didn't fall.

"Why? Was this supposed to be a surprise?" He chuckled, "Also no need to hold the towel that tight love. It's not like I haven't seen what's under it before." You stood there; heat rushed to your cheeks.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!"

You sighed as you put on your dress. Giving yourself one last look, you feel rather proud. It's been a while since you gussied up on anything; it was nice to know you still had some skills. You walked out of the bathroom to see Simon sitting on the bed. You wondered if he was waiting for you. "So, how do I look?" You smiled as Simon's head turned up. His eyes went wide seeing you, underneath his mask his mouth was agape. "Speechless?" You did a little twirl; Simon stood up and removed his mask. He walked to her, taking her hand, still not a single word from his lips. "Simon?" You stared into his eyes, pools of brown that had mesmerized you with how complex they are. Yet today, you felt only one thing from his gaze; adoration.

"You look... stunning." He pulled you into an embrace, "I'm quite jealous... Can't keep you all to myself. especially looking like this." his breath lingered on your neck, and his hands roamed your back and side. His fingers fiddled with the rim of your dress, which you quickly grasp and place away. You hummed with playful disapproval, "oh come on," he pouted.

"My rides going to be here any minute, I can't have you ruin my hard work." You pecked his nose then his lips. From your bag, the phone began to ring. "Speak of the devil!" You rushed over, picked up your phone, and took the purse in hand. "Hey, Kayla! You guys outside? Ahuh Okay, See you guys in a minute!" You rushed to slip your shoes on, and a shot of pain rushed to your head. You didn't make a noise but you placed your hand on your head.

"You okay?" You blinked a bit before looking back to Simon.

You laughed nervously, "Yeah, just a little headache!" You smiled, walking to Simon; you grasped his hands. "No need to worry, okay?"

He took a deep breath and placed his lips upon your knuckles. "Just, be careful love. If you need anything don't hesitate to call. I'll be wherever you are in 10 minutes tops." You couldn't help but laugh at the idea of him expertly speeding through the streets.

"Bless your heart Simon," you rested your forehead upon his and softly caressed his cheek. Next thing you hear a car horn outside your house, "must be them..." you whispered.

"Allow me to escort you out?" His tough raspy voice seemed so tender; His eyes never left yours.

"I'd be honored," Simon put on his mask before taking your hand in his large ones. Leading you down the way to the front door. You watched as he began to unlock the door, and couldn't help too long to stay home with him. Plus, probably would be better for those headaches; but canceling now while they wait outside, you'd feel incredibly guilty. You wrapped his waist in an embrace.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

You nodded and spoke just barely enough for him to hear, "Yeah..." he felt so warm in your arms, it was practically the only thing on your mind.

"Doors unlocked," he tapped your hands, "don't want to keep 'em waiting."

"A minute or two never hurt anyone," you released your grasp and walked in front; opening the door. "Don't miss me too much~"   You grasped his hand while heading out the door.

"Don't worry about me, love" both your arms fully extended, fingers begin to slip, " Just have your fun, don't go too crazy." Your hand fell to your side, turning around to see your friends making disgusted faces.

"Cut it with the mushy stuff and hurry (y/n)! The night isn't going to last forever!" Kayla yelled from the window; the other girls cheered.

"Alright, alright!!" You waved back once more, before hopping in.

"(Y/n) is that your boyfriend? He's such a hunk!" One stated, peeking over the seat in front trying to see him.

"Yep, he's mine~"

"Ahh you lucky S.O.B" Another one mentioned, "What does he do? To be that built and have a place like that!"

"Military~" a collective 'oooohhhh' went from throughout the car.

"I mean you struck gold girl! But what's with the mask? Kinda creepy if you ask me." Kayla asked, looking back at her rearview mirror curiously.

"I can't say..." you shrugged.

"Is that an 'I don't know' can't say, or 'that's private information' can't say?" You only shrug back. Throughout the car ride, it was a mix of karaoke and gossip. Also, they compare each other's boyfriends which you pridefully showed off your Simon.

Reaching the party, you felt extremely tired. Your head bursts with pain. As the girls rushed in you stood behind, leaning on the car and holding your head.  You looked back up as a hand took your shoulder, "Hey, you okay? You look like that hurt like a bitch..."

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm good, just a small headache." You faked a smile, yet she didn't look convinced.

"Take it easy, okay? If you need to go home just let me know, okay?" You nodded as you both walked on ahead. Ignoring the pain that rocked your head, trying to make the most of the night. You were cautious but more tired and tired as time went by. You motioned to your group you were going to sit down for a bit; Taking a seat at a table nearby.  Your eyes felt heavy, you didn't think much besides the fact you were tired. The idea of being snuggled up next to your beloved ghost, you longing for warmth. A wave of coldness came over your body and your vision went blank.

The next moment you opened your eyes, you were blinded by bright light. Ears overwhelmed by all sorts of sorts, people talking and beeping. Your heart raced in panic, and your eyes scattered scanning the room; A hospital? What happened and how did you get here? You felt something by your legs, "S-Simon" His head lifted slowly, turning to face you. 

"(y/n)! You're awake!" He jumped to his feet, rushing forward to rest his hand upon your cheeks. "Thank the lord you're awake! Gave me a good scare love..." He pulled you close, your chin rested upon his shoulder. Your mind is fuzzy, trying to figure out what happened before. 

"Simon, what happened?" 

"I wish I knew; I got a call from your phone." He stood back, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, "The damn girl was screaming but I heard hospital and unconscious. Then the paramedic took the phone and explained you were found unconscious." Simon grabbed your hand, "I told you to stay home..." 

"I-I know... I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you so worried. I just didn't think it was that bad..." silence lingered in the room for a moment, "How long was I out?" 

"Almost 15 hours..." With that, a knock sounded on the door, and a woman in scrubs stood there with a smile. 

"Sorry, I'm not interrupting, am I?" you shook your head, "miss (L/n) I know this is sudden but I'd like to ask you about the situation. Do you remember much of last night?" you again shook your head, her look seemed disappointed. "Were you having any prior pain or anything notable before this?"

"Not-"

"(y/n)." Simon glared sternly at you, "Tell her, or I will." you sighed, looking away from the two. 

"I've had headaches but I wouldn't call it notable..." 

"Not notable? You flinched from the pain." He crossed his arms. The nurse raised her hand, stopping Simon in his words. 

"I get your frustration Mr. Riley but no need." She looked back at you, "How long were these headaches going?" You shuffled uncomfortably; didn't help you are a horrible liar. 

"A short while..." 

"How long (Y/n)?" Simon restated. You sighed knowing your hiding was up, If the nurse didn't see through the lie; Simon would, he always could see through you. 

"A-A week... On and off Ya know." You looked at the two, Simon's brows were raised and his eyes wide. The nurse was also shocked too, but not as apparent. 

"And you didn't think of going to see a doctor?" You shook your head, not sure how to justify your decision. 

"I didn't want to worry anyone, plus... I needed a night out." you scrunched your shoulder, "I just didn't see it as that big of a deal." 

"A week and not a big deal!" Simon raised his voice. 

"Mr. Riley!" The nurse looked back. Simon left the room; you can't imagine how he feels right now. Tears began to well in your eyes, if only you handled all this differently. If you had just told him, none of this would have happened. "Oh sweetheart, he's not mad at you!" The grasped your hand, "He wants to protect you, and I know for a fact he's taking it hard that you went through it for a week. You need to tell people these things, this could be very serious." She spoke calmly, grabbing a tissue box and placing it in front of you.

"I-I know... I-I'm sorry, I just didn't want him to worry." You spoke in broken segments, "He does so much for me and I don't want him to have to worry." The nurse rubbed your hand. You blew your nose with your other. "Is it that bad?"

"We don't know yet, we have to do some tests." she stood up, "For now, I'll give you two some privacy.  We will come to get you for the test in the next hour, okay?" You nodded, she walked out, and there at the door stood Simon. You two just stared in silence, so still, you could hear a pin drop.  

"Simon I-" Your train of thought was interrupted as he closed the door to the room. "Simon?" He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Simon I'm sorry!" You closed your eyes.

"I heard you before," he spoke softly, you flinched as he cupped your face. "Right now, we have to make sure you are okay now; That's what matters to me." You nodded, "Open your eyes for me, love~" You took a deep breath, in front of you was not the masked hard to perceive man you usually saw, but the sincere, caring sweet face with his worried brown eyes. "Promise me you'll tell me these things. I don't care about you worrying me, your safety and health are my first priority." you couldn't get the word out of your mouth, you could only nod. "Say it (y/n)" your lip quivered.

"I-I promise, I'll tell you everything." he smiled, slowly moving a hair from your face.

"Good girl," he leaned in, his kiss was gentle. As if you were fine China, fragile and delicate. He spared not an ounce of care while he held you close to him. 

"Simon," he hummed in response, "What if it's as bad as they said it could be? What if I'm stuck with this? What if-" He placed a finger over your lips.

"Don't think about that," He rested your head upon his chest, "We will worry about that as it comes. For now, relax, I'll be here the entire time." 

"What about work?" 

"They'll understand." He kissed your forehead, "It's going to be alright, okay?" You snuggled in closer, having his arm wrapped around you as if you were back in your own home.

"Okay..."

I'M SORRY IF IT LIKE TOO MUCH BUT I HOPE THE SWEET OVERLOAD WORKED!

ALSO THANK YOU GUYS FOR 400!! IM HONESTLY ASTONISHED

[cherienymphe]

Do you have an exact moment In mind where Bucky has a moment in realization that he wants the reader all for himself.

You finished wiping down the counter, satisfied with your work before turning around. You jumped a bit at the sight of Bucky standing in the kitchen doorway before throwing him a small and nervous smile. The older man had never been the nicest to you, but considering what today was, you hoped he'd be more cordial. If not, well, you would understand that too.

"What are you doing?"

You resisted the urge to flinch at his tone, dropping the dish rag into the sink.

"Cleaning the kitchen? The food I made is on the table and-."

"Why?"

You frowned in confusion, watching as Bucky stared at you with a frown of his own, arms folded over his chest.

"I don't-."

"Why are you cleaning the kitchen?"

You blinked.

"I know it's a hard day for both of you, and I'm sure the last thing you want to do when all of your friends leave is clean," you answered.

Bucky's frown deepened, lips pursing as he stared at you with a look you couldn't place. He looked almost confused, like your very presence tripped him up, and you cleared your throat.

"Rebecca told me how well you're doing with your father's business," you hesitantly said. "I think they'd be really proud of you."

He didn't respond, blinking instead, and you worried that you might have overstepped. The last thing you wanted was to give him another reason to be angry at you. Especially on the anniversary of his parents' deaths. Just then, Tony strode into the room before Bucky could respond.

"The food is amazing, Y/N."

You sent him a strained smile, always uncomfortable in Tony's presence for some reason, but he was Bucky's friend, and you wanted to be nice.

"Thank you," you told him, playing with your fingers.

The dark-haired man smirked at you, drinking you in as he leaned against the counter next to you.

"You know, you are going to make some lucky man very happy one day," he complimented.

Your face heated up in embarrassment, feeling awkward with the topic of conversation. Guys tended to think you were strange, and you heard the way they talked about other girls who lacked experience. You seriously doubted Tony's sentiment but you thanked him anyway.

"I'm serious," he said, briefly touching your arm. "You're probably the best cook I know, and look at this place! It's spotless."

He chuckled, glancing at Bucky who you'd almost forgotten was there.

"This bozo and his sister couldn't get this place this clean if you gave them a week," he joked, and you glanced at Bucky too.

The other man was staring at Tony with a deep frown. Like he was angry at him, but then he turned his attention to you, and you weren't able to hold his gaze.

"That's not true," you defended, and Tony laughed again.

"You're too nice to them, sweetheart. If I came home with you on my arm I think my mother would forgive every sin I've committed."

Tony's voice had dropped as he said that, and your eyes met his just as Bucky spoke again.

"That's enough, Tony. Didn't you come here with someone? You might want to find her before she gets lost on the way to the bathroom," he spat.

That got Tony's attention, as if he'd forgotten her presence entirely, and he threw you one last wink before moving past Bucky. The other man didn't say anything for a while, simply staring at you with a frown before finally leaving.

[finniestoncrane]

*skims through the menu* hrrrrm if it isn't a bother, can I have a number 3 and 40 for YJ Riddler?

I was thinking Eddie is back at it again boasting about his nonexistent s/o and begs reader to be his pretend s/o to show off to whomever he is trying to convince that he gets ass. I was thinking about it in an angsty angle where he gets a touch objectifying but I'll leave that up to your genius self.

Okay bye, love u--

You've Taken It Too Far

YoungJustice!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 1.6k i am cackling, please pull up to the next window to receive your order u-u also i love this idea more than life itself, so good!! i hope i did it justice. i worried it was too long but not enough people give this loser the love he deserves! 💜 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: misogyny, objectification, p.much sfw

As you sat in the passenger seat of the car, watching the trees swish past out the window, you pondered over the conversation you had just the week before. Anything to distract you from the looming sense of dread, fear that this was a really bad idea. Something to distract you from the uncomfortably tight clothes you regretted picking out, and the way that Ed was leering at you from the driver’s seat, trying not to make it obvious but failing miserably, as was his usual modus operandi for sneaking glances.

“So you lied to these ‘investors’ about having a girlfriend?”

“You don’t understand, they’re so impressive, and so normal, and so cool. I needed to seem normal, I just needed something  to say when they were talking about all of their…conquests.”

“So you lied.”

“Yes.”

“Even though you’re lying about what you’re doing with their investments into your…’work’?”

“Yep.”

“Which means that lying to them about something as insignificant as having a partner might make them suspicious of what other lies you might have told them?”

“Yuh-huh.”

“And that would mean you were about to well and truly and royally screwed?”

“Yessum.”

“And so you want me…to pretend to be the idiot who willingly chose to date you?”

“Bingo!”

“Ok fine.”

If only you hadn’t agreed. If only you had told him to face up to his own problems. But it was impossible to leave Ed stranded. He was so adorable, all pathetic and vulnerable. It was hard not to feel the instinct to protect him. Tired of feeling sorry for yourself, you shifted your body forward in the seat.

“So, we’re just a nice normal couple then. You’re my boyfriend and-”

“Hm…well, actually…”

“Actually?”

“Fiance.”

“Fiance!?”

“Yes, I may have neglected to mention that part in our prior discussions.”

“Yeah, I think you might have! Uh uh, Ed. That’s too much.”

“I mean, it’s one word of a difference.”

“It’s completely different! For us to convincingly be engaged…it’s going to be so much more complicated.”

You brought your hands up to your face, leaning into them with your elbows digging into your thighs.

“Not at all! New relationships are filled with touching and kissing and fondling. I assume you…don’t want to have to do any of that?”

“Not at all!”

“No? Ok me either!”

“So?”

“So, established relationships statistically fizzle. We just have to convincingly not hate each other.”

“Difficult.”

“And maybe mention some wedding plans.”

You sighed and shot him a glare, detesting him but coming up with fake wedding plans on the remainder of the journey anyway. And if you were being honest, once you got there and had settled into the idea, it wasn’t as difficult as you thought. You an Ed were close, so holding on to his arm and complimenting him in front of other people wasn’t as big a leap from how you behaved around him most of the time, albeit a lot more intimate. Ed was actually a great pretend fiancé. He was courteous, gentlemanly, and it was a nice change to hear him be vaguely modest for once in front of his new peers.

After drinks, you excused yourself to the restroom, Ed offering to show you where it was. In the corridor, he stopped outside of the door and in hushed tones, he leant in to you.

“So…do you think it’s going ok?”

“I actually think it’s going pretty great. You’re a wonderful fiancé.”

“You think so? Um…ok…th-thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, now I really do have to pee so…”

“Right, right. I just wanted to make one quick point.”

“If you’re quick.”

“So there’s these two guys in particular, the ones who just showed up.”

“They seemed delightful, yes.”

“Yeah…I’ve been bragging to them a lot. And for some reason, they don’t like me, so they’re determined to out me as some loser who can’t convince anyone to date them.”

“I wonder where they got that idea. And I wonder why they don’t like you!?”

“I know right?” he ignored your sarcasm. “Confusing even for someone of my intellect. But either way, I’m going to be actively avoiding them and I suggest you do the same.”

You shot him some finger guns as you let the restroom door swing closed on you.

On your approach to the door after washing and drying your hands, you could hear voices outside the door, one of them Ed’s. Part of you knew it was rude to listen in, but this evening had made you see Ed in a completely different light. The way he introduced you to people, complimenting you and making you the centre of attention, had you considering him in a very different light. And, hopeful to hear the kind of things he had to say about you when you weren’t standing next to him, you held back, easing the door open ever so slightly to hear better, watching him cower under the two large men who were speaking to him.

“I gotta say, Ed. That’s an impressive piece of ass you’ve brought here with you.

“Oh yeah, really something! Congrats, how did you pull that off?”

“Oh th-thank you. Yes…amazing. Well, you think that’s good you should…uh…our sex life is…amazing!”

“Really? Ok, like how then?”

“Uh…the things they can do? Wow!”

“Like what, stud? Let us know!”

“Yeah, you’ve been bragging about this little fuck buddy of yours for weeks now, tell us the dirty details.”

“No, that’s inappropriate, I don’t think I should.”

“Why? Because you’re apparently engaged now?”

“Yeah, what happened to the ‘side piece’ who you used for sex because they were so desperate for you?”

You rolled your eyes, disappointed in Ed for falling into the trap of disgusting water cooler chat about sexual conquests. At least, you considered, you were only his pretend partner. You could take some solace in knowing he had never talked about you like that.

“Looks exactly like you said too, so must be the same fuck buddy that you’ve now decided to put a ring on.”

Realisation dawned on you as your stomach flipped at the notion. Ed had described you to these people. That’s why he was so insistent that you would be the pretend date. Which would have been flattering if you didn’t know how gross he had been when talking about you. You stepped out from the door to the leers of the two men, and the panicked face of Ed who greeted you, putting his arm around your waist and holding you close.

“Yeah, well, it was nice talking to you guys.”

“Totally, Ed! Always a pleasure…I suppose. Nice to meet you.”

They walked back towards the others, stopping just short of the centre of the room, close enough that they were noticeable in the way they were watching you and Ed. But you didn’t care. You were enraged by his words and the disrespect he had shown you, and knowing that he had still asked you to come here.

“I heard everything.”

“Oh…shit.”

“Oh shit indeed, Ed. What the hell were you thinking?” You smacked his arm.

“Ok, ok, you have every right to be mad! But please, please not in front of…” He tilted his head slightly, eyes staring to the side at the two men who were whispering to each other, eyes never leaving you both.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I don’t…I don’t know how or what…”

“Well, you better say something!”

“I…I…I-I…”

“Ok, I’m leaving.”

Ed shot his hand out, grabbing you and pulling you close to him.

“You better let go, Ed.”

“No wait, I just…we need to look like a couple, not a pathetic man and his killer moments before disaster.”

“Go on then.”

“I’m…sorry. I started talking to them, I got carried away. I had to think of someone, someone perfect that would make me seem…cool and capable and…good. And I…I think of you as that. And I’m sorry you had to find out about how I feel…physically towards you that way…”

You looked deep into his eyes. He was visibly embarrassed, his cheeks flushed and sincerity tinging his words. Of course you knew he had a crush on you, you’d have to be completely oblivious not to notice. And maybe, even though you wouldn’t let yourself admit it, you had a thing for him too. That’s why you were so quick to agree, so eager to make him happy by helping him out. So keen to try him out before committing to him.

“I apologise, really. I understand if you want to leave, I will accept my embarrassment and public shaming, and I will buy you dinner for the next two weeks.”

“It’s fine. I accept your apology. I will return to the room and play nice.”

“Oh! Oh thank you, th-thank you! God, I could kiss you.”

Taking the opportunity presented to you, you leaned into his embrace.

“So do it.”

You could see him gulping, hear him, as he desperately tried to search for the answer, the right thing to do, in your gaze. And as he watched the two men from his peripheral vision, he eventually realised this was the best case scenario, as he leaned in, carefully and shuddering, to kiss you.

Once his lips were on yours, you placed a hand on his cheek, your other arm hooking around his neck as his hands found their way from your upper back to your hips. As you pulled back, you noticed Ed was already checking on the others, the two men having walked away, resigned to the concept that Ed had been telling the truth. He did have a partner. And if he was lucky, by the end of the evening that would be a lot more factual than it had been at the start.

[yourfifitherealone]

Poison Tasting

(Non-binary friendly)

Cw: cut off name calling/cursing

"Young highness!! Undertaker invited You, Sebastian and Y/N to a gathering!" Mey-Rin card from the long echoey halls. She tripped over air per usual and tripped into the room. But of course Sebastian catches the klutz and she falls into a deep blush.

'This is sooo repetitive. This happens like every week!' You thought

"What kinda Butler would I be if I just let her fall?" Sebastian whispers with a smirk.

"Stop reading people's minds di-"

"Give me that!" Ciel shouts as he puts out his hand. Sebastian clears his throat, "Yes young Master. Here." He looks at the letter and then messily opens it leaving paper scraps all over the ground Finny has to clean.

"It's at 8:00 apparently. You have no choice or voice on the matter. You are coming with me. Have I made myself clear?"

We nodded and Sebastian added a "Yes, Master." And we scurried off to our business elsewhere.

When the hands of the clock hit 7:45 we started getting ready. Ciel wanted to shower and you were stuffing your face with cookies just in case the food there that wasn't to your taste.

"We're leaving! Everyone else's remaining, KEEP THE MANOR. STABLE! Do you understand?"

"YES CIEL!"

Sebastian opens the car door for me and Ciel then Ciel harshly opened the double doors to the building. All the noise stops as everyone stares.

"Oh there you are. Greetings Ciel and Butler and.....Y/n~"Undertaker says bowing. You roll your eyes then you Ciel practically jumps up to slap you across the cheek. You stare at him contemplating his demise but realize you AND Sebastian need that soul. You fix your posture and suit and take a seat at a two people table isolated from the rest. The conversation starts back up again with the partnership of the glass cups and plates clinking with each other due to the forks, and the toast to a long live.

"That looked painful.." the retired reaper says with a pained face. "Yep...little punk" you hissed as you touched the bruised side of your face. 'why the fuck do his slaps hurt so much. It basically feels like a punch.' you thought. "I bet it does" he whispers taking a seat across from you. "Stop reading my mind." "Anyways- im glad you came, I wanted to see you. I really missed you since-ahh!" His seat scoots back while some average rich guy pulls Undertakers seat and stands in the chairs previous place, "Hello, do you wanna come back to my place...I'll pay you," He whispers with a ugly 'im trying to hard' smirk. A few guys behind him laughed. "1. I'm working 2. Fuck off" and he walked of looking down and his friends followed.

"Ahem. Where were we?" Undertaker shyly said pulling his chair back to the table. "Nah that ruined my whole mood. If you don't mind, can I be alone?" You asked. He sighed and nodded "I hope that incompetent man and Ciel didn't ruin your night too much..." Then he left with his black cloak dragging behind him.

"Attention please," some dude shouted while hitting the glass lightly with a fork. "An announcement must be made to show gratitude for the person that made this possible, Undertaker." Clapping and yelping fell onto your already annoyed ears bad enough as a demon you were weirdly sensitive to loud sounds.

"Y/N come sit at the table with the rest of us, will you?" Sebastian asks, knowing you didn't want to. You sigh and sit next to Undertaker. "If you will enjoy the drink I made for each acquired taste. I did read your drinking preferences and got creative with what I saw I hope you all enjoy." Undertaker announced. You almost rolled your eyes but remembered your mistake and just clenched your fist repeatedly remembering your embarrassment.

The room either bit into their food first or took a big gulp or sip from their glass. Dinner went by really quick everyone was laughing as you were still upset, you were fighting the urge to laugh at some jones or people choking on foods and drinks. But when the plates were almost clean everyone started coughing... bad. Choking and people grabbing their throats, people falling off their chairs, hitting the tables. Sebastian's eyes went wide as he asked if Ciel was feeling well, "Yes Sebastian. But just in case let's get out of here." They started leaving but Undertaker kept you back. "Hey um I'm sorry your night didn't go as planned. I won't lie, I did this to spend time with you, cheer you up." "You..poisoned those people for me?" "Uh yes?"

You pull him by his stupid cloak and kissed him. It lasted pretty long when you pulled back he looked shocked and was blushing. "Hehe. I guess this day wasn't too bad right Y/n?" "Whatever. Let's go to your house."